


The Echo

by JingJohk



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Gen, Spoilers for everything, apparently it's angsty, haurchefant loves you, long chapters, protagonist cant spel 2 gud, protagonist has serious mental health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-07-23 04:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 65,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JingJohk/pseuds/JingJohk
Summary: The Warrior of Light strikes a deal with a god (?) to travel back in time to fix things, only the price paid is her memories. How do you fix things if you don't remember what needs fixing in the first place? To make matters more complicated, there are those who retained their memories and relish the chance to face her on the field of battle once more, this time with quite the upper hand...





	1. Head of a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am a slow writer. Or maybe a fast writer who just doesn't post often because of perfectionism. Either way, do not expect speedy updates, but do expect giant chunks of text.

_He_ had warned me there would be complications. I'd told _Him_ to hush, I knew what I was doing—well, more than the first go around—so there was less of a chance of me fucking everything up than before.

_He_ had said it was foolish to risk everything for the chance to fix one thing, and yet this one thing I wished to fix needed to be fixed to save...

Save what?

This must be one of the complications he had warned me about.

It was going to be pretty hard to fix anything if I couldn't remember what I was trying to do. I just had to...I just...

Who am I again...?

~*~

_«Our covenant yet remains, champion of Hydaelyn.»_

The effort it took to open one eye was monumental. The large, mirror-like eyes of a dragon pup greeted me upon success. The pup's tiny triangular snout dipped and its long, fin-like ears flicked as it inspected my face. Then it blew purple fire at me.

“Gah!” I said, jerking my head sideways. Both my eyes popped open, the ice encrusting them melting away under the fiery onslaught. “What the?! What was that for?”

_«Rise, mortal, ere thou joineth the dead in these frozen wastelands.»_

I sat up, dislodging the pup. “I'm in a snowdrift,” I said. “Why...?” I squinted at the pup, who perched on my knee and looked expectant. I knew this little guy and that deep, menacingly slow-paced voice talking to me. “Mid...Midgardsormr...?” Wind whistled in my ears. The very air was ice. It hurt to breathe. The dragon pup, Midgardsormr, crawled up my arm to sit on my shoulder. “What happened?” I asked.

_«A choice hath been made and the price paid,»_ replied Midgardsormr. _«Thou lieth within the embrace of Abalathia's Spine, betwixt two sides of a war once quelled but now rageth as before.»_

I looked down at myself. My clothes weren't exactly winter-worthy, but I wouldn't freeze in the next two minutes either. Abalathia's Spine sounded familiar. I wanted to say...Coerthas? “What price?”

_«Knowest thou of thy choice?»_ Midgardsormr asked. He sounded almost perturbed.

I stood and tried to find a landmark. There was a strange sort of castle in the distance that appeared to be mostly unattached to the rest of the world. The rest was mountains and snow. “I don't remember,” I said. “I don't...I know who _you_ are but I can't remember my name.”

Midgardsormr was silent. I needed to avoid death by deep freeze, so I started walking along the lowest part of the terrain. A weight clanking on my back prompted me to look back. Ah, my axe. That was also familiar to me, much like my scaly companion.

_«This life thou hast lived ere our arrival here,»_ Midgardsormr said at last. _«Events long past led to a break in thy soul, and though thy strength carried this star for a time, the break soon split thy soul in two. To save the world, we must save the soul that split. The choice thus made, we traveled to the time before the injury was done and came to rest here.»_

I stopped. “Wait a second,” I said. “You're telling me my soul split in two because of something and we went into the past to fix it? That's crazy! And you went _along_ with this idea?”

_«Thy strength is beyond comprehension, champion of Hydaelyn,»_ replied the pup, _«yet like a diamond wont to shatter when struck upon the correct point, thy heart was pierced and the damage left to fester.»_

“I don't see how that justifies the two of us going back in time,” I said. “You shouldn't mess with time. Bad things happen.”

_«Thy reluctance is familiar,»_ Midgardsormr said. _«This was the last resort. Know that I would not have allowed it if it were not all we had left.»_ He flicked his tail against my shoulder and stretched his neck out to point off to the right. _«This way, mortal. The sons of Ishgard know not thy face, for thy deeds were erased upon our coming. Tread carefully, and do not make conversation with me around others.»_

I _kind_ of remembered that bit about our relationship. He was invisible...imperceptible? to everyone else. I vaguely recalled he could show himself if he wanted, but the details of how I came to know this escaped me. It did assure me that I was not, in fact, crazy enough to hallucinate baby dragons talking in bass voices. “What exactly split my soul? Since I need to prevent that to justify this little trip into history.”

_«What destroyed it then will not now,»_ he said.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated, and started toiling towards civilization again. “So the world's saved already? Yay!”

_«Thy flippancy is ill-advised. A powerful bond forged was destroyed in moments.»_

I frowned. “So...someone close to me died...and that broke me?”

_«As a wyrm breathes as one with their consort, so did thee with thine. With it, an inextinguishable light shone. Yet with the destruction of the bond, the light darkened with bitterness.»_

“And if I don't ever have this bond in the first place?”

_«Two shall ever be greater than one. That strength is needed, champion. Alone, the balance tips towards Darkness slowly but surely.»_

Oh man, this was rich. “Saved by the power of love,” I said. “Come on, Midgardsormr. This isn't a romance novel. Surely there's more to it than that.”

_«Thou shalt see in time,»_ he said. _«Enough. I tire of pointless chatter.»_

“Before you go, could you at least tell me what my name is?” I asked.

_«If thou canst recall such information without help, we are lost,»_ he said, and fell silent.

He had a point. I spent the rest of time thinking about what I knew of myself. I was twenty-nine...thirty? No, twenty-nine. Or was I twenty-eight? Female. Dark hair, white eyes, pale skin. On the short side. Marauder—no, I was a warrior. I was from...Limsa Lominsa. No, I wasn't from there, but I usually stayed there. I wasn't a pirate. I could have been, though. I knew a lot of pirates. My name was on the tip of my tongue. Ammmm...nope, lost it.

“Midgardsormr, are we friends?” I asked.

His tail slapped my shoulder blade. I got the impression he was surprised by the question. _«After a fashion,»_ he said. _«The covenant binds me to thee, yet I do not find thy company intolerable. Thy life is but a mere thread in the long tapestry of existence, but I will never forget thee.»_

I smiled. “I guess that's a yes. Sorry if you mourn me too much when I die of old age and all, but I'm still glad we're friends.”

_«I will not mourn. It is the nature of mortals to die.»_

“So it is.” I noticed some sort of brick edifice poking out of the snow ahead and walked faster. The wind picked up just as I arrived at the door to a strange circular building. I knocked.

The person who opened the door was well over a fulm taller than me, with pointy ears and silvery blue hair. He looked down at me and said, “An adventurer? Do you seek shelter?”

I nodded. He let me in and put his shoulder to the door to close it against the now howling wind. Inside, several other similarly tall and pointy-eared men sat at a table playing some sort of card game. The lone man not wearing chainmail smiled politely at me. He had a wool shirt trimmed with white ruffles and a hat with a big feather across the front. Though the other men in the room had bony, refined faces, his was something of a baby face, with rounder cheeks and a perpetual innocent look. I wondered if I knew him. “Ah, another adventurer,” he said. “Seeking work at Camp Dragonhead, I presume? I fear the blizzard that has just arrived will delay you, rather. What's your name?”

My name came out of my mouth reflexively. “Ameme,” I said. Oh yeah...My name was Ameme Ame. What a weird name.

“Well met, Ameme. I am Lord Francel of House Haillenarte and this is Skyfire Locks,” he said, waving around the room.

“Is Camp Dragonhead far?” I asked.

“Not terribly, but the storm outside...”

Welp, back out it was. “To the north?” I asked, just to be sure I was remembering correctly.

Francel looked concerned. “Surely you can't be thinking of traveling in that...!”

“I'll be fine,” I said. “Just a few minutes inside to warm up and I'll be off.” I seated myself by the rather weak fire and held my hands near the heat. _Much_ better. When I had feeling back in everything, I cracked the door open and slid outside. It didn't want to shut thanks to the wind, but I got it firmly closed and started north.

Skyfire Locks had several buildings on the way to Camp Dragonhead, but they were not very far apart and the blizzard wasn't terrible enough to make me seek shelter every three paces yet. It had crept north as well, but I outpaced it before long and discovered I was on a real, honest-to-goodness road leading to a huge fortified outpost. I made it to about shouting distance of the gates of the outpost when a massive shape hurtled past me, howling like a banshee and waving noodle-like arms. The frost-covered goobbue, a giant block of a creature with a mouth able to swallow three adults whole, charged the gates.

“Great,” I muttered as the outpost guards raced to stop the rampaging goobbue. I unholstered my axe and ran. “Hyaah!!” I shouted, slamming the blade into the goobbue's back. It went through like a hot knife through butter, forcing me to carry my strike until I hit the ground. The goobbue staggered to a stop and, rather to my surprise, fell in two pieces. I hadn't realized I was that strong.

Between the two halves of the goobbue, I saw a group of men looking like they'd been prepared to be squashed, only to be disappointed. The one in front, another pointy-eared man with silver hair like the one who'd let me into Skyfire Locks, mouthed, “Wow!” at me and started grinning. Very dramatically, he pointed behind me. “To arms!” he shouted. “There are more!”

I whipped around to see a veritable army of crazed goobbues, their noodle arms flapping wildly as they rushed the outpost. This was getting better and better. I went to meet them, several other armed men on my heels. They weren't exactly strong, but there were a lot of them all over the place. We were at it for a good twenty minutes killing the lot, mostly because I was the only one who could dispatch them in a single hit and had to do a lot of running around to keep the rest of the men from being crushed. By the time the goobbues quit appearing out of the blizzard, I was starting to feel the burn in my legs. We withdrew to the outpost. I stuck by the gates since just walking in didn't feel right.

“What got into them?” grumbled the gate guard. “You there—the one with the axe. What's your name?”

“Ameme,” I said.

“An adventurer, eh,” he said. “Thank you for your assistance. I've never seen anyone cleave a goobbue in two like that before. Looking for work?” I nodded. “Excellent. We could use someone like you. Lord Haurchefant is—” He stopped and nodded deferentially to the silver-haired man who had just walked up. “Lord Haurchefant, I was just speaking to the adventurer who helped us. She is wanting for employment.”

Haurchefant turned out to be one of those enthusiastic types who gestured a lot when excited. “I saw, I saw! That was magnificent, my friend!” he cried. “To think there are women like you in the world who can bring down a goobbue in a single stroke! My heart skipped a beat when the beast fell in two to reveal your most gallant figure standing behind. Indeed, there is work aplenty for those such as yourself.” He waved to a building not far inside the outpost. “Come, warm yourself by our hearth. We can discuss terms of employment inside. Oh, Ser Hourefaut, if you could...” He started chatting with the gate guard. Figuring him for a talkative sort, I shrugged and entered the building he'd indicated without him.

The building consisted of two stories, with the first story devoted to a single large room furnished with a few chairs, a large table covered in maps and figurines of dragons and knights, a desk and office space in the back, and a large fireplace along the side. Three men exercised shirtless in one corner while a rather motley-looking group of men and women occupied the chairs in another. The biggest of the motley group waved me over, calling, “Oi! Oi, newbie! Over here!”

One of the women, who had cat ears and a tail, said, “Another new face! Welcome to Camp Dragonhead, newbie. They might all be Ishgardians but they're the _friendly_ sort.”

The one who had called me over snorted. “Friendly? Bit more than that, some of 'em. The pay's good, though.”

“Oh, psh,” said the other woman of the group, a freckled brunette with large green eyes. “If ye can't handle Haurchefant staring at yer arse every now and then, ye don't belong here. Not like he does anything, anyway. He's all talk.”

“I think he's nice,” said the cat woman. What was she again...? Miqo'te? That was it. Weren't they more of a warm-weather sort? “At least he's more of an equal opportunity ogler. So what's your name, newbie?”

I was going to be introducing myself a lot, wasn't I? “Ameme.”

The Miqo'te woman beamed. “Nice to meet you! I'm G'buloleh, but everyone calls me Goobbue. The Roe is Moonlight River and my rough-n-tumble Hyur friend here is Essenta. Our silent Elezen companion is Soluvrian. Don't mind him, he's not much of a talker.”

Roe? Oh, Roegadyn. I recalled the names for the various types now. Moonlight River raised a hand in greeting, while Essenta and Soluvrain simply nodded. Soluvrain had his hood up, so all I could see of his face was a flash of red-brown hair and a stern mouth.

“Our new friend here don't seem to be much of a talker herself,” Essenta observed.

Moonlight River decided to continue the conversation about Haurchefant. “You only think he's nice because he doesn't mind when you trip and crash into him!” he told Goobbue.

Goobbue's tail flicked. “He's perfectly kind outside of that! Besides, I thought you _liked_ it when someone complimented your muscles.”

“Not when it's a—hello, Lord Haurchefant. What was the commotion outside?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the man in question as he entered. Haurchefant shut the doors behind himself and dusted the snow off his head. “An army of goobbues—and not the bardic variety, either!” Haurchefant said, smiling at the Miqo'te woman. “I see you've met the hero of the hour already. She split the goobbues in twain as though it were nothing.”

“Really? Ooo, she didn't mention that!” Goobbue leaned forward, interested.

“Not that we gave her a chance,” Essenta noted. “So, Ameme, anything else you'd care to divulge?”

Everyone waited a beat as though they expected me to actually say something. I shrugged. Haurchefant said, “So your name is Ameme, is it? Come, come, let us discuss the terms of your employment.” He led me to the desk in the back and sat in the high-backed chair. As I shifted in front of the desk, he fetched out a sheet of paper and started filling it with beautiful calligraphy. The man's penmanship was gorgeous. “Hmm...you have demonstrated your ability to wield your axe most effectively, but is there aught else you would like to do?” he asked as he wrote.

If there was something else I could do, hell if I remembered. I shook my head.

“Very well, then. Standard pay for a week's worth of work is one thousand gil, not including pay for any extra work you choose to undertake. You also receive a standard sleeping mat and two meals a day. Does this sound fair to you?”

“What sort of work would I be doing?” I asked.

Haurchefant stared at me. I wondered if I had said something wrong, but then he blinked and said, “Oh, fairly standard work for an adventurer—escorting porters, fetching or chopping firewood, things of that nature. Though after what I have seen you do, I may ask you to undertake more dangerous tasks! Nothing as difficult as fighting dragons, of course, but there are many dangers here in Coerthas.”

“Dragons?” I thought of Midgardsormr.

“Yes, the Dravanian horde is a constant threat here,” Haurchefant said. “Outsiders are not expected to assist in any capacity so you needn't worry about getting involved. Should you come to be threatened by a dragon during your duties, we would not be ungrateful if you choose to dispatch it, of course. Ah, and you receive no extra pay for fighting them...I suppose that is something to keep in mind as well.”

“Seems like that might get more dragons killed if you did,” I said.

He shook his head. “It has been tried and we have discovered the skill levels of adventurers far too variable to make it standard practice. Now we actively discourage it, in fact. You can read, I take it? Excellent. Pray look over the document to ensure it is to your liking before you sign at the bottom.”

I took the paper and read it. 'The undersigned hereby agrees to render select services (resource gathering, escort, hunting) in exchange for a weekly stipend of 1,000 gil...'

He really did have the most beautiful handwriting. It was cursive with lots of pretty loops, all regularly sized and at a precise angle. I signed at the bottom with letters that looked like they'd just gotten out of a bar after a full night's drinking.

Haurchefant set the signed document aside and beamed at me. “I look forward to seeing your skills in action,” he said, sounding as though he meant it.

~*~

I awoke the next morning to the soft noises of chocobos scratching at the straw in their stalls. I rolled over and grimaced as the sharp ends of the straw pile serving as my bed poked me in the cheek. The thick fur blanket I had found among my supplies covered my body completely, and once I poked my fingers out of its safety, I was inclined to keep it that way. It was absolutely freezing outside.

“Kweh! Kweh!” cried one of the chocobos.

A soft male voice addressed it with amusement. “You're awake, I take it? Shh, there are people sleeping in the barn still...”

I scootched the blanket's edge around until I could see. Adventurer lodging was the best in Camp Dragonhead: the loft area in the stables. We got the softest straw—there was only one softness—and it was surprisingly warm, but I could still see my breath as I peered into the early morning gloom. I was at the edge of the loft, so I could see a silver-haired Elezen man stroking the head of the only black chocobo there. If I had to guess, the man must have been the lord in charge of the camp, Haurchefant. His voice seemed much lower, though. Soothing, really. I watched sleepily as he fed the chocobo a treat, saddled it, and walked it out of the barn. Morning ride, I thought.

Goobbue rolled over with a sigh. “Wish he'd talk like that all the time,” she said. “Can you imagine that voice in your ear—”

“Thal's balls, Goobbue, shut _up_ ,” Essenta groused. “Soluvrain not paying you enough attention or something?”

There was a grunt at the other end of the loft. Soluvrain evidently did not think much of that comment. Goobbue said, “A girl can appreciate a nice voice, that's all I'm saying!”

“Sounds more like you're about to start trying to climb the wrong tree, if you know what I mean.”

“Essenta...”

Essenta threw her thin pillow at Goobbue. “Don't Essenta me! Oi, Ameme. Word to the wise: Don't even try to touch any of the Ishgardians round here. If they don't think you're some exotic animal, then they've got enough baggage to sink a barge. Lord Haurchefant's no exception. He might act like yer the most delightful thing he's ever seen, but that's as far as you'll want to get. Trust me, it ain't worth it.”

The floorboards creaked as Moonlight River sat up. “All right, that's enough listening to girl talk,” he said. “Breakfast and morning exercises, anyone? That'll be the warmest we'll be 'til lunch time.”

I couldn't have agreed more, since I had next to no interest in anyone that way even if that was allegedly the entire reason I had traveled back in time. With much yawning, I got dressed under my blanket. One of my sleeves was home to a guest. Midgardsormr nearly gave me a heart attack when he chomped on my fingers as I stuck my arm through. I shoved him out the other end and judged him silently with my eyes. He huffed and faded from view. My fingers throbbed. He'd left a neat arc of red indentations, the little bastard, but at least he hadn't broken skin. The thick hem of my sleeves hid my fingers easily enough. I left the warm refuge of my blanket and packed all my things neatly to stow in the corner. The others were gone by the time I finished getting dressed.

The chocobos warked at me in a friendly fashion as I slid down the ladder. They were a well-trained bunch, these birds, but they were slightly intimidating as a group just because most were meant for Elezen riders. They towered over me. The two at the end of the row were the absolute sweetest birds, though. They put their heads over the stall doors for beak rubs and I obliged.

I wandered around Camp Dragonhead in confusion after breakfast until I spotted several late knights running into what I had dubbed the strategy room, where the lord's desk sat. I followed them and found the room filled with shirtless men and women wearing thin cotton tabards to preserve modesty. My adventuring compatriots were similarly clad and shivering. It looked like every single knight on day shift was in here.

“Ameme!” Goobbue called, waving at me. “C'mere! We're about to get started. You might want to ditch the fur.”

As I shed my warmest layers, Haurchefant bounded into the room. I could almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off him as he pulled off his haubergeon. “Attention!” he shouted. The knights snapped upright and saluted him in unison. The adventurers were rather more lackadaisical about it. I stood there like a dope. Goobbue nudged me until I clumsily copied everyone else. Haurchefant took no notice. “Good morn to all of you!” he said. “I've the most delightful tidings! The latest shipment of coffee beans has arrived and a fresh batch of coffee is brewing as we speak.” He beamed as the knights made pleased noises. “Of course, nothing wakes the body up more than exercise,” he added. “Squats, three sets!”

I didn't know what a set was, so I decided to just copy Goobbue until she stopped. Haurchefant joined the ranks of the knights with great excitement. Since I was just behind the end of the knights, he ended up in front of me. I found myself staring at his back muscles as he swung his arms back and forth. It was a good thing he had a thick skirt on, otherwise I would've also been staring at his ass, too. That would've been inappropriate and not a little weird.

Goobbue completed her squats and shook her arms out. I stretched my legs. Haurchefant called out, “Sit-ups, three sets!” And once those were done: “Push-ups, three sets!” I was starting to feel a bit toasty. That was when Haurchefant threw a surprise my way. “Dragoon squats, ten of them!” he called cheerily.

“Ten!” groaned Essenta. “You tyrant! I thought these were warm-ups, not kill-me-before-dawn-ups!”

“Essenta, my friend, 'tis _after_ dawn,” Haurchefant said, turning to face us. “Ameme, have you ever done dragoon squats? They are as follows.” He dropped to the floor for a push-up, jumped to his feet, and did a leap combined with a phantom spear throw. “That's one.”

I had figured they would be more difficult. I did the ten, with Haurchefant happily following along and saying things like 'Splendid jump!' and 'If I didn't know better, I would think you were a master of the lance!' He was the only one other than me who was not too out of breath to speak after ten dragoon squats. It was hard for me to tell if his praise was genuine or just shameless flattery. He was just so over the top about everything, you know?

“Take a break,” he said when everyone was done. “Is it not invigorating to start off the morning sweating?!”

Essenta muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

“Rather than our usual ending routine, I thought I'd try something different,” Haurchefant said. “Ser Moiroix! Have you not learnt a new dance during your last leave? Come teach us!”

The singled-out knight groaned. “My lord, did I not also mention I was terrible at it?”

“Then you must needs practice,” said Haurchefant. “After all, dexterity of the feet is as necessary to battle as a good, strong core! One cannot fight dragons if one constantly trips!”

Moiroix, red in the face, came to the front of the pack and clumsily tried to teach everyone some sort of stately ballroom dance. Haurchefant got on her case about incorrect footwork. I got a bad case of second-hand embarrassment. On the upside, I learned a new dance.

“You're from up north somewhere, aren't you?” Goobbue asked me, a bit too loudly. “Know any exotic dances?”

I cringed mentally as Haurchefant's head turned in my direction. “I don't know about _exotic_ ,” I said. “They're definitely not ballroom dances.”

“Let's see them!” she said.

“I don't remember them very well,” I said. Or at all, actually. I just remembered that I knew some dances. I didn't remember the dances themselves.

Haurchefant rescued me when he announced, “Warm-ups are over! Coffee is available in the mess hall.” He bounded over to me, looking like he'd already had at least three cups of coffee. “Ameme! 'Tis your first full day with us. I pray you slept well! Adventurers report to Ser Hourlinet, in case you were unaware, but should you ever run into any urgent issues, pray come to me directly.” He paused, looking me up and down. “Your armor is highly unusual,” he said.

I looked down at myself. I had chain leggings and plated boots of an intricate design. My gloves were colorful and feathered. Hell if I knew where they came from. “I pick up pieces here and there,” I said. “From the fallen bodies of my enemies, usually.” I held my arms up to show the feathered gloves. “This...was a gift from some crafters.” Maybe. I couldn't recall much.

“Fascinating!” he said. “Well, I know the top to be in the style of the skyraiders. The boots are most unusual and I cannot place them.” He pointed at my legs. “These, though, appear to be Ishgardian knight's trousers.”

This was a pop quiz I did not like. I touched the chain part of the leggings and tried to remember.

— _The keep was frozen over, its halls patrolled by ice sprites and the living dead. I stood in the corner with a torn journal page in hand, reading the sorrow of a man who no longer wanted to see his children for shame of what he had become. In the corner, I found a chest full of spare equipment. My own had been shredded in my fights with the keep's undead residents—_

“Found these at an abandoned outpost in a chest,” I said. “It was...haunted. By zombies.” I shuddered.

“Forgive me, it seems I have dredged up a bad memory,” said Haurchefant. “I pray the boots are less horrific in origin!”

I raised an eyebrow at him. He was grilling me in the most friendly fashion, and no wonder. My outfit must have made him highly suspicious. I angled one foot so he could look at the intricate design. Where were these from...? Hmm...ahh. “I snuck into a Garlean outpost for food and stole someone's boots,” I said. “I used the rest of her outfit, too, but returned everything else.”

Haurchefant stooped to study them. “These are Garlean?” he asked with some surprise. “They're most unusual, then. Quite beautiful, really.”

“I think the Empire's armor designers were inspired by the things they found in the Far East,” I said. “That was where I was when I got these.”

“The Far East!! My friend, you are truly well-traveled! I should like to hear of your adventures one day!” He straightened and regarded me with a warm smile. “In fact, why don't you—”

“Seigneur Haurchefant!” called someone from the other side of the room.

Haurchefant, still talking, turned to see who wanted his attention. “—join me some time for lunch—Oui, Inquisiteur?”

A woman in long white and blue robes waved at him. “Avec moi, s'il vous-plait!”

“Un moment, madame! Pardon me, ladies, but it seems duty calls. I pray your day goes well!” He gave us a courtly bow and strode away to the inquisitor to see what she wanted.

Goobbue, Essenta, and I exchanged glances. Essenta said, “You are now the prime exotic animal, shipped in from the Far East.”

“Essenta!” Goobbue scolded. “Really! Just because Lord Haurchefant likes hearing stories...” She turned to me. “Did you really steal your boots from an Imperial soldier?”

“Thought it was a good idea at the time, but then again I was starving,” I said with a shrug. “They don't feed their soldiers very well, either.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Not a surprise. They're all savages over there. All right, let's report to Ser Hourlinet.”

She and Essenta headed for a man in a yellow overcoat surrounded by adventurers. Hourlinet was the efficient sort, I could see. He had everyone's tasks scheduled in a neat little grid, including mine. Goobbue was runner for the day – she grimaced at this, since it meant a lot of travel – while Essenta got assigned to guard some porters. Soluvrain and Moonlight River got firewood duty. As for me, someone had creatively tasked me with 'ridding the immediate area of nuisance creatures', which meant feral crocs. That was my only task all day.

“Are you sure she should do that alone?” Moonlight River asked. “Mayhap Soluvrain could—”

“Given what I have seen her do, she is likely more than equal to this task,” Hourlinet said. “Now, with the storm strengthening, I would suggest we all set about our respective tasks with alacrity.” He turned to the rest of the adventurers.

“I don't think the pay's worth your life,” Moonlight River said to me. “Say the word and I'll come help.”

“It's fine,” I said. “I'll see you later.” I headed out. Time to get a real warm-up.

~*~

I stood over the latest carcass, panting hard. Blood dripped off the blade of my axe slowly, already beginning to freeze mere seconds after its forcible extraction from the vessel. Feeling oddly out of sorts, I scooped up handfuls of snow and began cleaning everything. The space around me turned pink. Only when I glanced idly at the dead wolf did I notice the sunset had turned the snow orange.

Have I been out here all day? I wondered. Best head back. I'm hungry...I think.

My killing spree had ended at the top of a hill. I gazed down at the trail of death and destruction I had left with a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. “Midgardsormr,” I said, “how long have I been out here?”

The tip of one wing brushed my cheek as my dragonet companion dropped onto my shoulder. _«Sunrise to sunset,»_ he said. _«Oft didst thou lose thyself to excess bloodshed in the end. That thou hast returned to thyself in the span of a single sun is a great improvement. Come, let us return to the sons of Ishgard. The native fauna has been terrorized enough for one day.»_

“I...yes, that's a good idea,” I said, struck by both my apparent ability to kill mindlessly for hours and Midgardsormr thinking _this_ was better than before. “I'm really broken, aren't I? I thought coming back _fixed_ me. This is not normal!”

_«To heal will take time,»_ he replied. _«To rewind time for a single mortal is miracle enough without asking for that which broke the world to be fixed without recompense. Go, champion. They will not mind a little blood.»_

I spent a few more minutes cleaning my boots and furs before heeding his command. The knights I passed greeted me with raised hands and bobbing heads. The sun was long gone when I reached the gates of Camp Dragonhead.

“There you are!” said the guard. “We wondered if you had met an untimely demise in the jaws of a croc. Report to Ser Hourlinet, if you will. You might find some leftover food if you're nice to Medguistl.”

I thanked him and trudged through the courtyard. The knights regularly shoveled inside the outpost, which was a blessing because it meant I wasn't tracking pink snow for all to see. Of course, the number of people outside now that the temperature was now well below zero was close to zilch anyway. Lighted windows and torches showed me the way through the central arch.

The sound of someone beating the stuffing out of a training dummy distracted me from my pensive march. I veered off course to investigate. The training area held only a single torch, leaving half the area in shadow. I saw long silver hair gleaming in the firelight, bouncing to and fro. As I drew close, I could make out the body attached to the hair. It was an Elezen man, and one who could jump absurdly high at that. I watched as he vaulted into the air, stretched to his full length, and hurled a black spear at the training dummy. The thin blade pierced the heart of the dummy with ease. The man landed practically on top of it, ripped his spear out, and did a few graceful spins. Then, with a full grasp on the mechanics of coolness, he twirled the spear to rest the butt on the ground in an at-ease position.

“Eavesdroppers and spies shall be taken as new training dummies,” he said, not turning around.

I blinked and looked from side to side. Who...? Oh, he was talking to me. Well, that was rude! I frowned at his back.

He turned to glare at me. His eyes were surprisingly dark for an Elezen of Ishgardian birth. His hair could have used a trim. What might have once been bangs now brushed his nose and even in the dark of night I could see his split ends were out of control. He hmphed at me, his glare acquiring a contemptuous air. “A coin-starved adventurer, back from her errand,” he said. “Hardly worth the trouble. Run along, girl, unless you want to take on my lance.”

That was even ruder! I wasn't a girl, I was a _woman!_ And his lance wasn't even that impressive! More importantly, something about him was very, very familiar.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with me. Rather than keep talking, he spun his lance and leapt high into the air. Like a diving falcon, he aimed for my heart.

_Oh, so he's serious about using me as a dummy_ , I thought.

Curious, I chose to block his attack rather than dodge. His lance was sturdier than it looked and his reaction time was excellent. The blade did not break when it glanced off my axe. The man landed with one foot on the flat of my blade and used it to propel himself out of reach. Unsurprisingly, his landing was as light as a butterfly despite the ice and snow covering the ground.

He hummed thoughtfully, swinging his weapon out to the side to prepare his next move. “Interesting,” he said. “I take it you've volunteered to be my training dummy.” He darted forward. I dodged in the nick of time. Damn, he was fast when he decided to use those legs of his to cover distance rather than altitude. I blocked several of his graceful sweeping blows easily and tried to figure out his fighting style. He wore light chainmail and no head cover, but as I studied him, I discovered he had absolutely no openings. The only time he opened himself up even a sliver was at the very top of his massive jumps, and there was no way I would be able to reach him up there.

He found me to be a tough opponent, too. All of his strikes had become cautious after that first attack, mostly aimed testing my defenses. The main issue for him was that his style had massive telegraphs due to the length of his weapon and the constant grip adjustments he had to do. Yes, it would hurt if he made contact...but he would have to get through my axe first.

I redirected my attention to his feet. Maybe if I...ohhh, yes, that was a good plan...although I was banking on him not knowing any hand-to-hand techniques and that he wasn't seriously planning on killing me...

He tried to skewer me again, this time with more intent than before. I twisted my hips to the side, just barely avoiding both the lance blade and the secondary winglike blade on one side. He was just within arms' length now. Maybe he thought he had me, because I could see him smirking and the muscles of his body bracing to pull the lance backwards. I slammed my axe vertically into the dirt. The handle locked the lance up by way of the winglike blade.

Ah. So he was actually trying to kill me. Good to know. I released my axe and put one hand on his wrist. His smirk turned to surprise as I ducked under his arms and slammed my fist into his gut. Not exactly the brightest move—the guy had abs of steel under the chainmail—but it took him surprise. He sort of bent over, either in reaction or just to keep track of me, and transferred to a one-handed grip on his lance. I cheerfully dragoon-jumped my head right into his chin. He made a bitten-off noise of surprise and reared back. Then, because he was a seasoned fighter, he adapted to the sudden close quarters by trying to punch me in the head. I ducked. The sound of metal scraping metal alerted me to the fact that he had slid his lance up to get it off my axe handle. I darted away and retrieved my weapon once he had backed up. We watched each other guardedly.

“You don't fight on the ground much, do you?” I asked when he made no move to attack again.

He snorted. “No. Mayhap I will after this, if only to spar with you again.”

I growled at him. “Is it sparring when you're actively _trying_ to skewer me?”

The man found this hilarious. He let the tip of his lance drop as he laughed heartily. “That last move _was_ a bit much considering your armor,” he said. “I would apologize, but as the bruise on my jaw will attest, you can more than hold your own in such situations.”

“Luckily for you.”

“Indeed, though given our earlier dancing, I suspected your level of skill was far higher than I previously assumed.” He waved a finger at the sky as Elezen were wont to do when they wanted to emphasize something. “I would end our sparring match here, my lady, as there are places I must be ere the morrow. First, though, I would have your name. 'Tisn't often I come across an opponent such as yourself.”

I decided he was a little on the weird side, as far as Ishgardians went. “Ameme,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Estinien,” he replied. “I shall remember your name, Ameme.” He gave me a curt nod, strapped his lance to his back, and jumped his crazy ass over the wall of the outpost without another word.

_What the hell was that?_ I asked myself. If _that_ was the guy I'd come back to save...I would have to tell myself I had terrible taste in men.

“Ameme!”

I jumped at the fluting male voice behind me. Haurchefant came striding across the courtyard. Some part of me relaxed when I saw him. “Hello, I'm back,” I said when he arrived in front of me.

“Yes, so I see,” he said. “When you did not report back by lunch, I confess Ser Hourlinet grew rather worried. Where have you been?”

I pointed vaguely in the direction of my activities. “I was killing feral crocs as assigned,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “All day?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I ran out of crocs, you see...so I started on the wolves...I think there may have been some ice sprites, too.” I noticed my fingers getting fidgety with my axe handle and stilled them.

“Ah,” said Haurchefant. “And upon your return, you chose to get into a fight with the Azure Dragoon?”

I stared at him, wondering if I was about to get in trouble.

He sucked in a breath. “Ameme...”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I was just watching him beat up the training dummy and he decided that meant I wanted to fight.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Oh, that is no surprise,” he said. “The Azure Dragoon is, shall we say...not a sociable sort of man.” He shook his head. “No, that is not what I wanted to say. Ameme! You are _magnificent!_ ”

I stared some more. Was that code for me being in trouble?

“To think, you were hard at work all day ridding the land of dangerous beasts, only to return and go axe-to-lance with the Azure Dragoon! And with such grace! I've never seen aught like it! You are truly, exceptionally strong, with unbelievable stamina!” He gestured excitedly as he spoke.

“Ah,” I said, blinking.

He picked up on my confusion and abruptly calmed himself. “After all that work, you must certainly be hungry,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of asking Medguistl to prepare a late dinner for you. Pray partake of it and take tomorrow off to rest. Come!” He led me to the kitchens and spent the entire time I waited for food recounting what he had seen and asking questions about this or that technique.

“What's an Azure Dragoon?” I asked when he managed to stop long enough to drink the orange juice Medguistl the chef gave him.

“Ah, I had forgotten you are new to the region,” Haurchefant said. “Pray forgive me. The Azure Dragoon is a title given to the strongest and wisest member of the order of dragoons. Among all Azure Dragoons past and present, Estinien Wyrmblood is considered exceptional.”

“He does jump pretty high,” I allowed. “So he just shows up to beat on training dummies?”

Haurchefant had a little laughing fit at the 'jumps pretty high' line. “I know not why he was here,” he said after recovering. “From what I have heard, the man comes and goes as he pleases. He has also thoroughly rejected Ishgardian high society, despite his status. I find him quite an interesting character, truth be told. I daresay you'll find him a far more difficult opponent should you fight him again. He is known for his ability to adapt to other fighting styles.”

Well, that was great. What if I didn't want to fight him again? But figuring out how to get the better of him had been pretty exciting, not to mention a far sight better than mindlessly killing animals.

“Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant asked, frowning. I shook my head. “Hmm. Yet you look as though something weighs heavily on your mind. Pray tell me. Did you not wish to fight the Azure Dragoon?”

“It's not that,” I said. To tell him, or...? I remembered Midgardsormr saying that healing took time. How did one heal unrelenting blood lust? “I just...lost time today.”

“How so?”

I looked away. “I remember what I was doing,” I said. “It's just that I...I lost track of myself all day...and all I did was kill...”

Haurchefant studied me silently. “I see,” he said. “Would you say this was a state of mind?”

I shrugged. “I stopped thinking, that was the problem. I don't _want_ to do that kind of thing, but...” I waved a hand aimlessly. “I shouldn't be doing that. It's not normal. I'm not just a killing machine or a weapon. I'm a person. I...” Who was I talking to? It wasn't Haurchefant. “I'm a person,” I finished, feeling stupid.

Haurchefant reached across the table to grip my hand. “Forgive me for being too forward, but I must speak my thoughts,” he said. “Ameme. You are neither killing machine nor weapon. Though slaying those beasts has helped us, I would rather you put your considerable skills to use in ways that do not make you think you are nothing more than a tool. To that end, I shall ensure Ser Hourlinet assigns you more peaceful tasks.”

“I'll do them,” I said. “ _Someone_ has to go around killing things. It may as well be me since I'm so good at it.”

“I will not hear of it,” Haurchefant said. “Ameme, you are not a tool! You are a person, splendid fighter though you are. Now, finish this excellent meal and go to bed. Tomorrow you will have no assignments. Pray use that time to gather your thoughts and realize you are more than the sum of what you kill.” He patted my knuckles and released my hand.

_Haurchefant is a nice guy, but he definitely doesn't know me_ , I thought. Fighting was all I did. Nothing he said would change that.

...but...

Maybe he was right, in a way. Maybe I could do more than just fight. No, I _would_ do more than just fight. I had to if I wanted to stay sane. I would become the person he imagined I was.

“Let us speak of less serious things,” Haurchefant said. “Tell me more of your adventures in the Far East! I would not dare to imagine I know much of the world past Eorzea.”

“I didn't spend much time there,” I said a bit nervously. What was I supposed to tell him? I didn't remember.

“But surely you were there long enough to know something of the food!” he said.

Oh gods...what did I eat over there? Sushi? “Raw fish on rice,” I said.

“What?!”

“There was a lot of sea food...”

He leaned forward, fascinated. The more I talked, the more I remembered the little details. I even recalled climbing onto curved roofs and running around a port town, as well as being yelled at by men in yukata for doing so. It was a struggle to describe yukata to someone who had never seen them, but Haurchefant was somehow enthusiastic about the idea anyway.

Anyway, it was very nice chatting with someone who just wanted to hear stories. He was a busy man, so I also appreciated the amount of time he took just to talk to me. When I was finished eating, he thanked me for sharing my experiences and bade me good night before rushing off to do something or other—he mentioned reports—and leaving me all by my lonesome. I made sure to thank Medguistl for the food before I dragged myself to the chocobo stables for the night.

~*~

“Kweh! Kweh!”

“Shh-sh-sh—there, there, I'll get you saddled soon. Just be patient.”

I opened my eyes. It was warmer today, so my head was outside the blanket this morning. Midgardsormr had tucked himself under my chin during the night. I felt him buzz every now and then with little snores. I twisted my head until I could see Haurchefant once again tending to the black chocobo below me. The bird crooned as he fetched its tack from the hook by the stall door. Haurchefant glanced up at the loft and looked apologetic when he saw my face peering down at him.

Behind me, Goobbue rolled over noisily and, after a gusty sigh, said, “Did I miss Lord Bedroom Voice...?”

I choked on air. Haurchefant's mouth opened in surprise. There was a grumble from Soluvrain that sounded like, “Go back to sleep!”

“Lord _who?_ ” Haurchefant asked. Goobbue's ears flattened and she gasped. Essenta busted out laughing from her bedroll. I bit my lower lip, trying not to giggle too much. Haurchefant's expression was...not exactly pleased, although he wasn't angry either.

“Bury me now,” Goobbue groaned quietly, peeking over the edge of the loft.

“Ahahaha! Oh gods!” Essenta pressed her face into her pillow, trying to muffle her laughter.

“M'apologies, Lord Haurchefant,” Goobbue said, redder than a beet. “I didn't mean it like...um...morning warm-ups at the usual time?!”

Haurchefant gave her a small smile. “I suppose I deserved that considering how early I always come in,” he said. “Yes, warm-ups are at the usual time. Mayhap you'll be a bit more awake by then, yes?”

“Aye,” she said, scooting out of his line of sight. Haurchefant lifted a hand to me in acknowledgment and plodded out of the stable with his bird.

We had to wait until we were absolutely sure he was gone before we reacted. I started laughing along with Essenta. Soluvrain sat up and slapped the loft floor, saying, “Dammit, Goobbue!” He seemed about as close to hysterical laughter as an Elezen could get. Moonlight River guffawed and shook his head pityingly.

Goobbue crawled under her blanket, wailing, “Oh, kill me naaaaaaao!”

“The look on his face!” I said.

“Oh sweet Azeyma, don't tell me!” she said. “I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eye ever again!”

Essenta gasped. “Oh—oh, that was too good! I needed that laugh today! D'ye think I'd get latrine duty if I called him that to his face in public?”

I groaned. “Please don't,” I said. “He's _such_ a nice man. He doesn't deserve that kind of disrespect.”

She sat up to rub her ribs. “I know! I wouldn't, but just imagine!”

“He's going to ignore that it happened,” Soluvrain said, “but don't push your luck. Any other Ishgardian lord would have turned you out on your ear in a heartbeat.”

“Ugh, I know. I really ought to have checked before saying anything,” Goobbue grumbled. “Stupid, stupid, stupid...” She cursed herself the entire time we were getting ready and eating breakfast, and trailed us to the strategy/warm-up room looking like a wet week. Moonlight River took pity on her and let her hide in his shadow when we lined up.

Haurchefant came in about ten minutes later, looking as full of energy as ever. “Good morn!” he said to the assembled knights and adventurers. “The skywatcher says it will be warmer today! Of course, that does not mean we will not be doing the full warm-up routine. Let us—Ameme!”

I jumped. “What?”

He frowned at me. “I recall telling you you had no assignments today.”

“...it's still cold outside,” I said.

He smiled and nodded. “Very well. Since you are here, mayhap after our sets you can teach us a Far Eastern dance!”

I began inching towards Moonlight River's shadow. “Um...not sure if I know any...”

Haurchefant just laughed and started us on our exercises. Today, rather than dragoon squats, we were doing 'Temple Knight Take-downs', which were grappling exercises. Fortunately they did not involve full-on fighting, but they were still a work-out, especially since Haurchefant made me pair up with Moonlight River and I found myself dodging hands half the size of my torso.

The dreaded moment arrived when we finished beating each other up and Haurchefant ushered me to the front of the pack. “If not Far Eastern, then mayhap something closer to home,” he suggested.

At a loss, I tried to remember a dance—any dance. Only one came to mind, and of course it was close to the weirdest one in my arsenal. “Um...okay, so this one is...a moogle dance...”

“Moogle?” asked Hourlinet. “You mean...?”

“Fluffy flying cat things with pink balls attached to their heads,” I said. “They fly around yelling 'kupo', you know. Those things. Uhh, anyway, it goes like...” Cautiously, I went through the steps. My body remembered most of them. Hand up, spin spin, hand up, spin spin...arm waving and butt wiggling... _why_ oh why did I pick this one? There was no way I'd get a group of Elezen men to do this. I jumped and waved my arms and started over. As I grew more confident in my memory, my performance got more enthusiastic. I stopped after the third repetition since no one was trying to copy me.

“Hmm,” said Haurchefant. “That is certainly not a style I have ever seen before. How does the first move go?” I demonstrated. “Ahh. And then you step with the left or right foot? Pray proceed slowly.” He had me walk through the dance one step at a time before trying it himself. The other knights gave it a try, too. They were all terrible at it, especially the men who were uncomfortable with the butt wiggling. Haurchefant was the best of the bunch, mostly due to his enthusiasm.

We quit when it was time to get assignments for the day, though not before Haurchefant ominously promised to pick my brain for more dances. Since I had nothing else to do, I pulled out the embroidery hoop and sewing kit from my pack and sat by the hearth in the strategy room to continue what looked like a cross-stitch of a spriggan. I didn't remember starting it, but that wouldn't stop me from finishing.

The knights at Camp Dragonhead were very busy. One of the two guarding Haurchefant at his desk, Corentiaux, constantly intercepted unfamiliar new arrivals to interrogate them. The other, Yaelle, had her hands full trying to keep the paperwork organized. Groups of knights constantly showed up to warm themselves. Adventurers showed up in smaller sets to report to Hourlinet in the corner. The noise kept breaking my concentration. My thumb acquired many tiny holes from the needle.

It was better than being alone but at the same time it was worse. I struggled to ignore the little voice in my head whispering that I was a killer who didn't belong with other people, and I should be out there killing everything that needed to die right this instant because that was my purpose.

_It can't be_ , I said to the voice. _I was sent back because I had to do more than kill. Because only killing had destroyed me. All you are is a symptom._

_You still must kill to save the world_ , retorted the voice.

_Yes, but I don't need to kill anything today_.

The voice had no reply. I stabbed myself in the thumb again as Essenta entered the room laughing hysterically at poor Goobbue trying to use her as cover. Claws only I could hear clicked across the stone as Midgardsormr appeared and sought the warmest spot by the hearth to nap.

“What on earth is the matter with Goobbue?” Yaelle asked when the pair had left. I scrunched over, wishing I couldn't hear them so well.

“I shan't say,” said Haurchefant. “It seems the adventurers housed in the barn loft are awake whenever I come to saddle Martellain. The voice one must use with chocobos is taken very differently by outsiders...”

His guards gave each other confused looks. “Taken differently how?” Corentiaux asked.

“Let's ask Ameme,” said Yaelle. “Ameme—”

“Oh, you mustn't bother her,” Haurchefant said hastily.

I started giggling. “She appears unoccupied,” Yaelle said, an answering grin spreading across her face. “Surely it can't have been _that_ embarrassing, my lord.”

“Based on Goobbue's demeanor, I'd say it was,” Corentiaux observed. “Which of course is all the more reason to find out what happened.”

“Oh yes,” Yaelle agreed. “Do tell, Ameme.”

“'Tisn't that _I_ found it particularly embarrassing, but we must needs take Goobbue's feelings into consideration,” Haurchefant said. “Essenta no doubt teases her enough for the entire outpost.”

The guards looked rueful. “Well, as long as it was not an actionable offense,” Yaelle said. “I should hate to have to write her up for something. She gets quite enough on her record from tripping on nothing.”

“Nothing of the sort,” said Haurchefant. “The girl is hardly twenty and one years. One should not be punished too harshly for youthful mistakes.” He leaned over his desk. “Ameme, pray show me your work! I have been watching the progression of your spriggan with some interest.”

I put my hoop on the desk, commenting, “I didn't think embroidery would interest you.”

He took his gloves off to handle the hoop by his fingertips. “I would say ordinarily it does not,” he said, staring closely at my stitches. “I simply find it remarkable you can deal such heavy blows with your axe and yet have the delicate touch necessary to do needlework.”

“Anything is possible with practice,” I said.

“Too true, my friend. Mayhap I should take up the needle,” he said, smiling. “It seems a soothing hobby. Alas, I have not the patience for such things.” He handed my hoop back. “Carry on. I should like to see it finished. Now I must get back to work, for there are reports to be made and dragons to fight!”

“If you wave enough reports at them, they might fly away in disgust,” I said. All three laughed and went back to their duties. I sat by Midgardsormr again and resumed making the spriggan's feet. The voice in my head said nothing and I quit stabbing myself.

Haurchefant had left by the time I finished, so I dropped the fabric scrap with the spriggan on his desk and wandered outside, bored. _No killing_ , I told myself firmly, and went to Skyfire Locks to see if anyone needed help. I volunteered to do anything and everything: hauling firewood, collecting wood for arrows, weeding at the Observatorium's vegetable plot, and lighting the lamps by the road. Now I was shearing someone's karakul. It had already kicked me twice and at the moment it was trying to chew on my foot as I bundled its wool into a basket.

“Shoo!” I hissed at it, moving my foot away. It bleated smugly and bounced away to graze on some weeds growing under the ice. I dropped the basket of wool off by the knight who had set me to the task and turned, planning to move to the next lock.

“Yoohoooooooo!”

A pair on the road was hollering at me now. I trudged to them to see what was going on. Essenta and Goobbue greeted me cheerily. “I thought you weren't supposed to work today!” Goobbue said.

“Oh aye, Lord Haurchefant seems to like you,” said Essenta. “I'd call that blatant favoritism, the way he gave you the day off. Be honest now: does he prefer women who don't talk?”

“ _Essenta!_ ” Goobbue snapped. “Just because it didn't work out between you and that visiting lord—”

Essenta turned red. “Don't you dare bring that up!” she said.

Goobbue huffed. “I've had about enough of you bullying me, I'll not let you bully Ameme in the bargain,” she said. “She only just got here. Anyway, I'm sure there was a reason for the day off.”

“I killed everything two malms out to the west of Camp Dragonhead,” I said. “He decided I needed a break. I got bored after lunch, so here I am. What are you two up to?”

“Oh, he _believed_ that, did he,” said Essenta.

Goobbue also looked a bit dubious. “Well...I suppose it's _possible,_ it's not like there are a lot of things out there when it's especially cold,” she said. “Anyway, we're heading back to the outpost because we have escort duty next. Want to come? An extra set of hands is always helpful!”

Essenta rolled her eyes. “If she killed everything west of Camp Dragonhead then we wouldn't need her,” she said. “I'm going ahead. Have fun chatting.” She stalked up the road.

“Don't mind her, she has a history of failed romances with Ishgardians and it's made her bitter,” Goobbue said, waving her hand. “So do you want to come?”

It sounded better than shearing sheep. I nodded and followed her back to Camp Dragonhead. The courtyard was abuzz with activity centered around a set of caravans. Knights ran back and forth, unloading cargo with excited looks on their faces.

“Oh, wow!” said Goobbue. “It's been a while since a shipment made it through from Ishgard. They're always waylaid by...” She paused and glanced at me. “...um, Ameme...you _did_ say you killed everything west of Camp Dragonhead, right?”

A porter near us exclaimed to a knight, “It was the damnedest thing! The road was completely clear from here to the Gates of Judgment. All the scout found when he looked was dead beasts. Looked like something out of a nightmare, he said. Everything was hacked to bits.”

“Wow!” said Goobbue quietly. “I feel a lot safer having you along now. Come on, let's find Essenta.”

Essenta waited by the western gate with a rather smaller caravan and a trembling porter. “Blasted Temple Knights!” she said grumpily when we joined her. “They're not impressed by a damn thing if it ain't scaly and winged and dead. If a pack of wolves ate every porter between here and Ishgard for the next fortnight, they wouldn't care even if it meant everyone here ended up starving!”

“I'm impressed enough for all of them,” Goobbue announced. “Hallo, Remelaine! Ameme here will be joining us on the way to Whitebrim. She's the one what killed all the beasts to the west.”

The porter gave me a nervous look. “Did you? Wonderful. Let's go while the road's clear. I've heard tell of heretic activity in the area. I hope you're as good at dispatching heretics as you are beasts.”

_More killing_ , I thought as my heart sank. _Always with the killing..._

_You see?_ whispered the voice I had thought silenced for the day. _That's all anyone has ever wanted from you. That's all you will ever be called upon to do._

I squared my shoulders and ignored the voice. The porter climbed into the driver's seat and started the chocobo walking. As escorts we were stuck on foot. Essenta moved to the front while Goobbue and I watched the sides and rear. I tried to figure out if I recognized the landscape. Hey, I knew that tree—nope, no I didn't, and there were three more exactly like it within twenty fulms.

“Seven 'ells, that's bleedin' enormous!” Essenta cried. I dashed to the front to find her pointing at a croc carcass just within sight of the road. Was that...oh yeah. It was. I could see the distinctive marks of my axe along the side of the croc.

“I beg of you, don't shout like that,” the porter said with a grimace. “For a mo' I thought the Dravanian Horde was coming.”

“Think I'd be a lot louder for that,” Essenta said. A shadow darkened the caravan. I looked up at the enormous wyvern winging in and thought some yelling might be in order.

“Dragon!” Goobbue shrieked. “Duck and cover!”

The wyvern squalled as it landed on top of the caravan. I leapt and struck at its tail, the only part I could reach from there. The severed tip landed a short distance away. We ducked as it whirled, its new stump spraying strangely dark blood across the snow. The wyvern tried to take a bite out of me, but I blocked it and went for the nearest wing. My axe tore the thin membrane, but not enough to stop it from flapping and getting enough lift to overturn the caravan. I jumped out of the way and winced as boxes and crates went tumbling.

The wyvern put one long-toed foot on the caravan and squawked in triumph, spreading its wings and everything to put on a show. I buried my axe in its gut. As soon as its neck dipped in pain, I went for that too. A wyvern without a head did not operate very well. I took cover as the body spasmed and collapsed, pumping black blood by the gallon over pretty much everything.

I kicked the neck so it was pointed away from the cargo. “Is everyone alive?” I called.

Essenta popped into view with the chocobo, which had gotten loose in the melee somehow. The porter crept out of the woods. Goobbue was nowhere to be seen. Essenta, with a sound of disgust, pointed us to an unnatural snow mound with a tail poking out. Goobbue, it seemed, had been blown head over heels into a snow drift when the wyvern flapped its wings. “Call the brass blades!” she groaned when we dug her out.

“Get ahold of yerself,” Essenta growled. “The dragon's dead and now we gotta pick up the pieces. Ameme, not injured? No bits missing? C'mon, let's see if we can get the caravan back up.”

Getting the caravan back onto its wheels took more work than killing the wyvern had been. We had to take all the cargo out, use ropes to drag it upright with a lot of cursing and slipping on ice, scrub it down, and reload everything. Then it turned out the chocobo was in no state to pull the thing, as one of its wings was dragging and it kept stomping its feet in agitation. The porter took its reins while Essenta and Goobbue hooked themselves up to the caravan. I had to guard everyone as we hauled our sorry selves the rest of the way to Whitebrim Front.

“By the Fury!” said the guard when he saw us. “What happened?!” His eyes traveled from the beleaguered chocobo to the tears in the canvas roof. “Was it the Dravanians?”

“Oi, stop gawking and help!” Essenta snarled. The guard went inside the fort to fetch a fresh chocobo. Essenta and Goobbue escaped the yoke and collapsed on either side of the entrance ramp, exhausted.

“Do we have to walk all the way back?” Goobbue asked hopelessly.

“After all you've done? I pray they feed you first,” said the porter. “Tell them it was a wyvern you slew—they should be suitably impressed.”

“If they aren't, we'll just have Ameme kick them around,” Essenta said.

“No,” I said.

“What? You don't have to _hurt_ 'em. Just threaten 'em, like.”

I turned my back on her and walked away. Goobbue said, “Leave her alone, Essenta. She's not a mindless mercenary.”

“I wasn't trying to—”

“You're always so insensitive!!”

The argument faded from hearing as I put distance between myself and the fort. Half a malm away, I found a nice boulder in a deserted area and took a break.

Idly, I scraped snow into a pile and started to pack it into a ball. “Walking one is nice one,” I muttered. “Walking one is friendlier than other ones. Walking one is more helpful than other ones. Walking one kills more than other ones...” I smashed my snowball and sighed. Why was I talking so strangely?

“Good job,” said someone behind me. I whirled to face...myself.

It was definitely me. I recognized my face, from the piercing pale eyes down to the war paint. The armor was different: black, spiky, with a cape and a breastplate. She stood in a spot devoid of footprints to show how she had gotten there. I thought she must have been a ghost or a hallucination.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She smirked at me. “I'll make it easy,” she said. “I'm you. I'm the part of you that's tired of killing and breaking and destroying for the sake of idiots and cowards, to be specific. You used to call me Fray, but it doesn't matter so much anymore.” Her gaze flicked to my shoulder as a tiny weight touched down on it. “Aha, and there's our little scalekin expository device. The gang's all here—well, except for _him_. Of course, he's never really far away, is he? He's always right here.” She tapped the spot over her heart.

_«Thy manifestation is most troubling,»_ Midgardsormr said, and spat purple flames in Fray's direction. _«State thy purpose.»_

“I'm not here for you,” replied Fray. “I'm here for Ameme. I'm well aware that this is putting a strain on him.” She waved her hand, dismissing Midgardsormr. “First, I want to tell you good on you for saying no and walking away. You never did that enough last time, in my opinion. Would've been good for you. Second: aye, I'm a sign your soul is still split. When we came back, Midgardsormr grabbed _him_ and asked him to help. He's the one keeping you together right now. No, I'm not telling you who _he_ is. The bond has to happen naturally. Some healing has happened but you've got a long way to go.” She paused, pale eyes narrowing. “Third, I'm here to ask you something. Do you still want to save the world?”

I blinked. “Like I did before? Isn't that what I came back to do?”

Fray snorted. “That wasn't what you wanted and you know it,” she said. “I'm asking you what _you_ want. I already know, being you, but I want to hear you say it. Do you want to become the hero again? The Bringer of Light? Hope manifest? Some other stupid title that covers up all the blood we had to spill to earn it?”

“I don't think I have a choice,” I said. “People will call me what they want.” I thought a moment. “If the world needs saving, I'll do it,” I said. “I want to do it. But...I want to do it my way. Killing isn't always the solution. It can't be.”

“You don't want it to be, but what if it is?” Fray asked.

“Then I'll come up with a new solution,” I said.

She nodded. “If anyone can do it, you can,” she said. “I'm going to leave—he can't support this much of a split for very long—but I'll give you a little bit of advice: Say 'no' more to more people. _Especially_ idiots.” She jerked her chin at me and just like that, she was gone. I dropped to my knees, suddenly exhausted. My chest ached without explanation.

“Was that really me?” I asked Midgardsormr. “When my soul split, did that make some kind of dark side? Am I really evil?! Do I need to purify myself?”

_«That was a mere echo,»_ Midgardsormr said, wiggling his ears in irritation. _«Thy soul remains whole, bound by aetheric energy once belonging to thy beloved.»_ He spat another purple flame and disappeared with a distinctly grumpy-sounding squawk.

“You are absolutely no help at all,” I grumbled. Experimentally, I pressed the heel of my hand over my heart. The rhythm was strong and steady. “Sorry to put you through so much trouble,” I said. Nothing reacted. Pah, fine. Once the pain and exhaustion faded, I headed back to the fort. Knights had converged on the caravan at some point and had most of the cargo unloaded already. The porter and injured chocobo were gone, but Essenta and Goobbue were still sitting by the gate.

“There you are!” Goobbue cried, relieved.

“Sorry about that,” Essenta said. “Didn't know you didn't like that kind of talk.”

I simply nodded and said, “Are we ready to go back to Camp Dragonhead?”

“Aye, since no one saw fit to reward us for our efforts.” Essenta gave the nearby knight a pointed look.

“I see why your companion wished to be quit of you,” the knight said, expression darkening. “As I told you, we've no supplies to spare for the feeding of sellswords employed by other houses.”

Essenta made a frustrated noise and turned to Goobbue: “Do the bard thing!”

“I'd rather go back to Camp Dragonhead,” Goobbue said. “Besides, bards don't guilt trip, even if certain individuals from a nation purported to be honorable are not honoring their current debts.”

“Leave, lest I throw you out on your ears!” said the knight.

Essenta scowled. “We kill one of yer bleedin' dragons to get yer supplies to ye and _this_ is the treatment we get. I hope you starve in the next blizzard!”

The knight and Essenta were all set to get into a fight, but a tall Elezen man with dirty blond hair made for them and said, “That is enough, both of you. There is no reason not to acknowledge their bravery, Ser Brunadier.” He gave us a polite nod. “Unfortunately, with supplies so low and this being the only successful shipment made in some days, I fear we cannot afford to thank you with much more than simple rations at the moment.”

“My apologies, Lord Drillemont,” said Essenta. “I'm...a bit tired, so my manners are lacking. We could do with a drink of water and then we'll be out of your hair.”

Drillemont did one better and let us have really old oatcakes as well as water. The oatcakes came from his waist pouch, too. He might've been saving them for himself. We exchanged glances and silently accepted everything before seeing ourselves out without fuss.

The activity in Camp Dragonhead had died down by the time we got back, but the overall mood was a great deal cheerier. The guards at the western gate greeted me with, “The wandering hero returns! Food in the mess hall if you want it!”

“Do we ever!” Essenta groaned. “C'mon, Ser Hourlinet can wait!” She made a beeline for the mess hall at a slightly faster pace. Goobbue went with her, tail and ears drooping.

I was hungry as well, but I hadn't been pulling a caravan like those two. I headed to the strategy room to report. Hourlinet's reaction to me was disbelief. “I'm sorry,” he said, staring down at me over the top of his papers. “Did you just say you killed a wyvern on the way to Whitebrim Front?”

“It attacked the caravan,” I said, trying to be patient. “Yes, I did kill it.”

“Where was this? Along the road, I see. Come, you must tell your story to Lord Haurchefant.”

I wasn't really sure I wanted to see Haurchefant at the moment, given that I had ignored his orders to rest and, in fact, had killed yet another being. “Why?”

“Because we've had no reports of Dravanian activity in that area and he prefers hearing from the witness rather than from reports,” Hourlinet said, and dragged me to Haurchefant's desk.

Haurchefant had had an exciting day from the looks of things. His desk was in a larger disarray than before and he had his head down, feverishly writing a report or something, with a jar half-full of pickled plums at his elbow. As we came up, he absently speared a plum and popped it in his mouth.

“Lord Haurchefant,” Hourlinet said. “Ameme has returned with tidings.”

Haurchefant looked up and swallowed hastily. “Ameme!” he said, relieved. “When you disappeared, I worried—but here you are. What tidings?”

“I did errands in Skyfire Locks after lunch,” I said. “Essenta and Goobbue flagged me down, so I went with them on escort duty...” I explained what had happened. Haurchefant slid the plum jar away from his elbow and listened gravely.

“This is but one in a string of many unusual events,” he said when I was done. “The Dravanian Horde is moving, though to what end I cannot say. 'Tis a marked change from their previous movements. I shall notify the Temple Knights.” He shut his eyes with a smile, looking rather tired. “Since you do not seem to be the type to sit idle when there is work to be done, I humbly request that any reports of dragons and the like be brought directly to me.”

I eyed him. “... _humbly_ request?”

“Indeed. 'Tis clear to me that you are no average adventurer, Ameme. In the few days you have been here, I find I have developed great respect and admiration for you. Today you have proven my judgment sound.” He stood and held a finger aloft. “I should be glad to call you friend! Wherever your adventures take you, you may always be assured of a place here at Camp Dragonhead.”

_Some things never change_ , whispered Fray in my mind.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I said, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “I'll let you know if I run into more dragons.”

He beamed at me. “Splendid! Ahh, your smile is a wondrous thing to see. Since you've worked so hard, why not warm yourself by the hearth? I shall have some roast karakul brought—”

“Oh, no, I was going to find Essenta and Goobbue and eat with them,” I said.

For some reason he looked almost disappointed. Then he brightened. “I am sure they would appreciate the company of their hero,” he said. When I shook my head, he said, “Come now! You slew a wyvern and enabled them to reach Whitebrim Front safely. In fact, I shall accompany you to the mess hall—ah, here they are!” He made for the two new arrivals eagerly.

I slipped silently out of the room and went to eat. There was much to think about and I wanted to do it alone.

~*~

“Kweh! Kweh!”

Another morning, another alarm in the form of an excited chocobo. It was colder this morning, but I poked my head into the open anyway. Haurchefant, as I had come to expect, was once more quieting the chocobo. This time he was completely silent aside from a few gentle hushes. I figured he was trying to avoid giving something for Goobbue to listen to when he glanced up and smiled slightly when he saw I was awake. We exchanged wordless greetings before he saddled up the bird and took it out.

It was some time after he left that I heard Goobbue make a noise from Soluvrain's bed. The two were, as Essenta had implied, something of a pair, but they had a tendency to sleep separately because Soluvrain did not like Goobbue shoving her icy feet between his thighs to warm her toes. I had seen last night Essenta tucking herself in with Moonlight River. Those two just seemed to do it for convenience's sake.

It would have been a lie to say this sudden show of companionship didn't make me feel just a bit lonesome. Midgardsormr was a poor consolation prize, given he wasn't even visible to my weak mortal self most of the time. At least last night he had chosen to curl up by my stomach. He functioned as a decent enough heater so long as I kept the blanket over us at all times.

“Aaahhhhhh,” groaned Goobbue, quite loudly. “Gods, everything huuuuuurts...!”

“Shut up,” said Essenta's muffled voice.

“If you start arguing with her, I'm kicking you out,” Moonlight River grumbled. Essenta mumbled something about not deserving this treatment and retreated further under the blankets.

Goobbue whimpered. Soluvrain heaved a sigh and said, “At least you have the day off today.”

“But I can't even mooooove!” she wailed.

“ _Aish_...I'll carry your sorry arse to the chirurgeon's before I go aught elsewhere.”

“I'll show _you_ a sorry arse, you unfeeling Elezen prick!” There was a gentle thumping noise.

Soluvrain just snorted. “You missed.”

This sounded like a scene I didn't want to stick around to watch. I pulled my gear on and packed up hastily as Essenta started pestering Moonlight River about carrying her too. Half the chocobos were still sleeping when I hopped down the ladder. One of the early risers whistled at me curiously as I ran outside.

It was so early no one besides Haurchefant was in the courtyard. The night watch was still at their posts and no one had refreshed the braziers by the gates just yet. Haurchefant rode his chocobo for a few laps around the courtyard before heading outside the fort.

“No rest even for the chocobos, eh,” I said aloud.

No rest for Ameme, either. I fetched an old heel of bread from the kitchen and roved around Camp Dragonhead, gnawing away. The night shift collectively looked ready to head to bed. I saw one knight in particular keep leaning over the side of the rampart, trying to spot his replacement.

Since I had nothing else to do, I got coals from one of the knights and refreshed the braziers around the fort. “Don't like sitting still, do you?” the guard by the south gate asked when I came by his brazier. “You have our gratitude for clearing out the wildlife, by the way. Feels like it's been a lifetime since I last had good cheese!”

“You're welcome,” I said, and moved on. I had just finished the last when Haurchefant came back. His bird's beak was open as it breathed, a sure sign of hard riding.

“Aha, Ameme,” he said. “Just the adventurer I was hoping to see!” He dismounted and handed the reins to a nearby knight, who led the tired chocobo back to the stables. “How are you this morning? Not too sore, I hope!”

“Fine,” I said.

“Splendid! I apologize if I woke you. I fear nothing will keep Martellain quiet in the morning when he sees me enter.”

“I noticed you didn't talk this time,” I said. “Trying to avoid attention?”

He coughed. “Ahh, yes. I prefer not to have my actions misconstrued in any—but that is neither here nor there. Pray walk with me, Ameme. There is some time before warm-ups and I should like to keep moving while out of doors.”

I repressed a smile at his back as he headed for one of the many tiny alleyways between various buildings. “Were your actions misconstrued?” I asked, trotting by his side.

He shortened his steps to match me. “My response to such things must, at all times, be measured and weighed carefully,” he said. “I can be neither eager nor repulsed, for the first would greatly trouble House Fortemps and the second would greatly trouble my relationship with the adventurers in our employ.”

“If you were wondering, we adventurers are under the impression that you wanted to run shrieking from the barn when that happened,” I said.

Haurchefant marched along for several seconds, then stopped abruptly and said, “Ameme, may I be honest a moment? Well and truly honest, and not a word I speak must be heard by any other than yourself.”

I studied him. “You may. I won't tell anyone,” I said.

He inhaled and then burst out, eyes wide: “I very nearly did run shrieking from the barn!” I jumped at the force of his exclamation and tried not to giggle as he continued, “Not that I don't like Goobbue, but I—I'm not at all the sort of man whose proclivities include the tails of _felines_.”

My eyebrows rose. “Just cat tails? What about the ears?”

“Oh, the ears are strange as well,” he said. “In a way I like them, as you can always tell what is going on through her head if you watch them. The tail is what unnerves me most.” He flattened his hand and imitated the movement of Goobbue's tail when she was excited. “This—just the way it moves—but you cannot turn to look at it even if it catches your eye because it's highly inappropriate— _swear_ to me you won't mention this to her.”

“I won't,” I said. “I swear it.”

“Good,” he said. “Of course it wasn't only the thought of her tail...I suppose I was most perturbed knowing—ahh, mayhap I shall keep that to myself.”

“You don't like knowing people think about you that way?” I asked, curious. “Or that adventurers do? Or...”

“Hm. This conversation will soon lead me to thoughts I should not indulge,” he said. “My position and status are such that it would be unwise to do so. Pray come this way, out of the wind. So tell me about why you came to Coerthas, Ameme! I confess I've been wondering since it became clear you were no ordinary adventurer.”

He was such an odd duck. I had so many questions now, but then he turned those butterfly blue eyes towards me and I felt absolutely no urge to pester and potentially upset him. “Why I came here, eh,” I said. “I'll tell you if you also swear never to tell anyone.”

Haurchefant smiled at me. “This I swear on my dear mother's grave,” he said. “After all, 'tis only fair since you now have one of mine own secrets to keep.”

I tucked myself behind the building and beckoned him close. He leaned down so I could say in a low voice, “I...don't actually know.”

He blinked. “You don't?”

“No. I woke up in a snow drift with no memory of how I got there,” I said. “I barely remembered my name. I can tell you about places I've been and things I've done, but it's all very patchy.”

Haurchefant tapped his chin and considered me gravely. Boots scraped on the ledge over our heads. We froze. Moonlight River's husky voice said, “Bugger. Got a light, mate?”

“Aye,” said a second voice I vaguely recognized as belonging to another adventurer. Moonlight River lit up a cigar, from the sound and smell. He coughed. Haurchefant and I shared a grimace. Cigars were an acquired taste, to say the least. We scooted upwind.

“Damn that woman, nearly dislocated my shoulder,” Moonlight River grumbled.

“Essenta? Really?”

“Nah, Ameme,” he said. “Don't let her size fool you. The woman packs a wallop even when she's being nice.” He coughed again and sighed. “Essenta's being a right pain in the arse, though. Might be a good lay but after dealing with her last night it's almost not worth the effort.”

“I did hear she and Goobbue pulled a full cart most of the way to Whitebrim,” said the other man. “Think I'd be whining, too.”

“Oh, all of us would,” Moonlight River replied. “She was just getting clingy. I told her when we started that this was just for fun. If it ends up more than that, I'll kick her to the curb.”

“Yea? And then who'll you tumble on cold nights? The new girl?”

“The new...? Oh, Ameme. Nah.”

“Really? Funny, thought you'd be all for it. She looks like a sweet little thing.”

My fingers dug into my palm. _I'll show you sweet, you—_

“You've never been closer than a hundred fulms to her, have you?” Moonlight River asked dryly. “She's seen more shit than all of us combined. Eyes like a glacier, she's got. I look down on her all the time but it always feels like I'm really lookin' _up_ at her. Essenta's damn well petrified of her, too, and you know she'll run her mouth off at damn near anything short of a dragon.”

They fell silent. I glanced at Haurchefant. He shook his head and smiled at me.

“So you're saying I have a chance at her,” said the other adventurer. My eyebrow twitched.

Moonlight River laughed. “Don't say I didn't warn you!” he said. “And if you start bothering her too much, I'll deal with you myself and call it a mercy.”

“Pah! You're no fun,” said the other adventurer. “Do you believe that she killed a wyvern by herself?”

“Easily,” said Moonlight River. “And I believe it when she says she killed everything out west of here, too. I could smell it on her even after she cleaned herself up. If she weren't so damn mild-mannered, I'd be scared stiff of her myself.”

I shook my head. Mild-mannered? If only they could hear me sniping at Midgardsormr. Oh, and the whole soul-split thing, with my other half overtaken by bitterness...

Haurchefant put a hand on my shoulder and motioned to say, 'We should leave.' The other adventurer said, “Sounds like a real psycho bitch, then. Like that one lass who decided to go after poor Hourlinet, you know...looks sweet, tries to rip your throat out with her teeth.” Haurchefant's fingers twitched.

“Now _that_ one was born with problems,” said Moonlight River. “Nah, Ameme's not like that. I got a secret to telling the good from the bad.” He took a good drag from his cigar. I considered throwing rocks at him. Yech. “What you gotta do is watch Lord Haurchefant when he talks to 'em by about day three. You know how he grills everyone a day or two after they show up? He's a good judge of character, that one. If he doesn't like 'em, his eyes get flinty and he doesn't smile. By day five they're usually gone.”

“Oh aye, I remember,” said the other adventurer as Haurchefant covered his face with his other hand. “He doesn't like me too much, to be honest. I try to keep in their good graces, too.”

I could hear Moonlight River rolling his eyes as he said, “He _knows_ you slack off whenever you can.”

The other adventurer took offense to this. “Oi, and what are you doin' right now?”

“I work hard for my gil,” Moonlight River retorted. “This here's my one real break of the day. You'd better watch yourself, though. If Lord Haurchefant knew about your history of skimming, you'd be out of here in a heartbeat.”

“Che. I don't do it here. Ishgardians are a paranoid lot. The pay's good and the women're to my taste, so why spoil that.” A bit of ash fell down from above. “Well, guess we'd better head to warm-ups. Think I'll chat up the new girl a bit, see what you're talking about.”

“Idiot,” said Moonlight River as his conversational partner crunched away. “Fuckin' hate that guy.” He grumbled for another minute before he too walked away.

Haurchefant ground his heel on the bit of ash that had fallen and said, “If you ever encounter trouble...”

I cracked my knuckles. “I look forward to it,” I said darkly.

“I don't doubt you do for an instant,” he said. “Regarding your amnesia, is there some assistance I can provide? Mayhap make inquiries, find any associations familiar with you...”

“Letting me work here while I get my bearings is enough,” I said. “Can't shake the feeling that I should be doing something, though.”

Haurchefant hummed in thought. “Did you perhaps mean to be here, in Coerthas?”

“I was traveling,” I said. “I need to figure out what direction I was going. I was in Boulder Downs when I woke up.”

“That is near Mor Dhona and North Shroud,” he said. “I shall ask if any recall you traveling from either of those places. Never fear, my friend! We shall suss out your true purpose ere long and send you on your way.” He gave me a sunny smile.

“That eager to get rid of me?” I asked.

“What!? Not at all! On the contrary, I—one of your caliber is ever welcome in Coerthas.” His cheeks and the bridge of his nose flushed.

I laughed at how flustered he got. “Yes, please ask around and thank you for your help,” I said. “I like it here, but I think I'll need to start traveling soon.”

He cleared his throat, the flush dying away. “I would suggest going to the Shroud first,” he said. “Mor Dhona is home only to Revenant's Toll, which is sparsely populated to say the least and none too organized.”

“All right,” I said. “So are we late for warm-ups yet?”

“Hah! We're just in time. Come! You should enter first, as it wouldn't do to come straggling in after me.”

Everyone was assembled when I made it to the strategy room with Haurchefant on my heels. I shot in like I was late and ducked around the back of the adventurer contingent in a very squirrelly fashion that made me look guilty as hell. Moonlight River turned to give me a grin. “By the skin of your teeth,” he said as Haurchefant started shouting at everyone while taking his top off.

“I still made it,” I said. “How are Goobbue and Essenta?”

“Still whining, but at least they're whining to the chirurgeon,” he replied.

“ _NO_ talking in the back!” Haurchefant shouted. “Sit ups, four sets!”

Moonlight River waited 'til warm-ups were over before trying to talk to me again. “So Essenta was telling me what happened yesterday,” he said. The man next to him, a Hyur of rather slight build and a lean, hungry look to him, turned his head to listen in. “Now it's not that I don't believe you, but I gotta ask...what were you thinking, fighting a wyvern?”

I shrugged. “It was interested in the supplies and the chocobo,” I said. “Its head just happened to go low enough for me to lop it off.”

“Aye, Essenta mentioned that bit. Do you know how godsdamned _difficult_ it is to get through dragon hide?”

I gave him a sharp look. “Yes,” I said. “Why?”

“Because I've never actually seen you use that axe of yours, that's why,” he said. “All these Ishgardians die to dragons and the elements constantly even in groups, and here you are taking wyverns down all by yourself.”

My eyes narrowed. “Pardon me for not indulging in wanton slaughter where others can view it,” I said.

Moonlight River nodded. “I'm grateful for that.” He rotated his shoulder and opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and walked over to Hourlinet instead.

“So,” said the slight adventurer, “you're the one I keep hearing about, eh?” He leaned a hand on the wall next to me, casually invading my space. I simply looked at him. If he got handsy, well...he would find himself short at least one hand, if not two. “You sound pretty strong,” he said. “I happen to be very fond of strong—”

Thump! And suddenly Haurchefant was there, imitating his pose exactly but a fulm taller and more muscular besides. “Dalton, Ameme,” he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Work waits for no man or woman! Ser Hourlinet is waiting with your assignments!”

“Er,” said Dalton, shrinking away from Haurchefant's bare chest.

Haurchefant got off the wall and spread his arms wide, still a bit too close to Dalton for the Hyur man's liking. “You especially, Ameme! I put in a special request! Ah, but I won't spoil the surprise. Report to me once you've received the assignment!” He bounced off, thoroughly excited by whatever it was he was going to make me do today.

Dalton and I looked at each other. “Proposition me again and I will end you,” I said bluntly, and walked away.

“Dalton not being a bother, is he?” Hourlinet asked me.

“Lord Haurchefant's incredible biceps scared him off,” I said. “Speaking of him, what's gotten him so excited?”

Hourlinet's expression remained mildly concerned. “Oh, that. He wanted to have you help train some of our knights this morning. In the afternoon you'll be on messenger duty.”

That sounded terribly relaxing. After Hourlinet gave me the lowdown of who to report to for messenger duty later, I headed to Haurchefant's desk. The pickled plums were gone, replaced with an absolute bounty of sugared fruit and nuts, bonbons, and little red scoops. Yaelle strolled past the desk and snagged one of the bonbons. Haurchefant beamed at me. “Ameme, care to have a sweet? They arrived with the latest shipment and I saw no reason to keep them to myself!”

I stared at the stuff. Candy was not a common item in Eorzea, and certainly an adventurer like myself rarely had the chance to even see any, much less eat some. Sadly, once the opportunity presented itself, I had no idea what half of it was. “What are those?” I asked, pointing at the red scoops.

“Candied rose petals,” he said. “They're quite sweet, if you like that sort of thing.” He held one out to me. I nipped it from his fingers with a thumb and forefinger and held it uncertainly. The petal was stiff with sugar. Did people seriously eat these?

“Never seen candied flowers?” Yaelle asked, amused by my wary reaction.

“Flowers are for looking at,” I said. If I put this thing in my mouth, I would have to commit myself to chewing and swallowing. Or just swallowing, since this didn't look substantial enough to warrant actual chewing.

Yaelle laughed. “You're just like Corentiaux!” she said. “He hates candied flowers. Try a bonbon instead, you may like those better.”

I popped the petal into my mouth and let it sit on my tongue. The sugar quickly dissolved in a sweet burst, giving way to a milder sweetness that managed to taste exactly like a rose. I worked the petal around my mouth and tried chewing. This was mostly unsuccessful. With effort, I swallowed. If I had to pick a word to describe the flavor, I would have gone with 'cloying'.

“Here,” said Haurchefant, offering me a little brown sphere with white slashes all over it.

“I don't think I was assigned here to taste all your candy,” I said, eying the sphere suspiciously.

“Oh, but I insist! If you should find something you like among them, you may have another if you wish.”

“Just this one,” I said, taking the sphere. “And what is it, exactly?”

“A chocolate truffle,” he said as I took a nibble.

Chocolate? Ooo. Now _that_ I knew. I could taste it instantly, too. I promptly ate the truffle with relish.

“Aha, so you like chocolate,” Haurchefant said. “Splendid! Now onto business. Although I originally had the battle training outside the fort so others could come and go freely, the weather forecast this morning suggested we would be better served having it in the training dummy area instead so our trainees won't freeze.”

Mmm, chocolate...the flavor lingered in a lovely way even though the truffle itself was long gone.

“This unfortunately means you're like to have an audience when you spar our trainees. I hope you don't mind. As for what you'll be doing, I have left that up to Ser Fortechault, the veteran overseeing today's training.” He dropped the business-like tone suddenly and clenched both fists. “This will be a truly magnificent sight!” he exclaimed. “You exchanging blows with the knights of House Fortemps, muscles taut as each tries to land a strike upon the other on an icy battleground—I can't wait to see it!”

“I was with you until the muscles part,” I said. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh...I have a great appreciation for your physique,” he said. “So much power packed into such a slender, graceful frame! Hah—no doubt you think it strange, my fascination with such things.”

“The rose petals were stranger,” I said. “Besides, who wouldn't be impressed with...these...muscles?” I struck the silliest flexing pose I knew. My arms were sticks compared to the men around here, I knew, and the fur covered up pretty much everything besides. When I finished my pose, I made sure to give him a cheesy, overconfident grin and winked.

Haurchefant cracked up. I think he laughed at me for a good minute before he calmed down enough to say, “That would work better if you didn't have those sleeves!”

“Begging your pardon, ser! I would never do something as unseemly as expose my wrists to a man who is not my husband,” I said.

He pretended to regard me with extreme dubiousness. “And what is that I see now?! Your _bare_ shoulder? Hmm, yes, complete with tattoos...” He grinned when I faked being scandalized. “Enough jesting, we mustn't keep Ser Fortechault waiting. I look forward to seeing those muscles in action!”

Outside, the promised crowd had not yet materialized, but a veteran knight with three trainees were doing stretches in the dummy area. It looked like a meditation exercise. The trainees moved their hands up and down as they took deep breaths and exhaled slowly. The veteran knight, his status evident in the color of the pleated skirt beneath his mail, was giving them a really scary pep talk.

“Alert, Aware, Prepared,” he said. “The Dravanian horde is always ready to kill you, so you must be ready to kill them. Perseverance, Tenacity, Honor. This sets us apart from the beasts of the mountains. Courage, Strength, Loyalty. Heretics lack our principles.” He turned to me. “Ah, you are the adventurer assigned to help with sparring this morning. Ameme, was it? I hear you slew a wyvern.”

“I think killing every wild animal between here and the Gates of Judgment was the more useful accomplishment,” I said. “Breakfast was delicious. You're welcome.”

The trainees grinned, but the veteran knight shook his head. “Both are equally useful,” he said. “You work with an axe, yes? That would make you a marauder from Limsa Lominsa, I assume.”

I frowned. Marauder wasn't quite right. “Not exactly,” I said. “The techniques I use are different.”

“I see. Well, I look forward to seeing just how different they are. For now, you can join us on our warm-ups.” He had us stand in front of the dummies and began to prowl as the trainees did their best to beat up the rolled up straw mats that made the bodies of our inanimate victims. I sized up my opponent. Hmm...old, beat up, bits of straw coming out, snow on the crown of the head...oh yeah, and it couldn't run away. The dummy had seen better days and today was the day I put it out of its misery. I wound up for my best heavy swing and let loose—

THWASCREEAK!!

The dummy fell in two as I rubbed my ear. If I had known there was a metal pole in the middle, I might've tried something different. My axe didn't have any scratches, fortunately.

“By the Fury!” the veteran knight said. “You went through the stand like it was nothing!” He stood over the surviving bit and gingerly touched the shorn metal.

I inspected my weapon again. Oh shit, there WAS a scratch...no wait, that was from the wyvern. Or was it from the crocs? I needed to take it to the mender.

“Ameme,” said the veteran knight.

“Yes?”

“You _are_ familiar with the concept of sparring, yes?”

I nodded. “Don't worry, I'll be gentle,” I said.

“I didn't mean to imply—” He coughed. “That is, I have full confidence you will not harm your sparring partners. Shall we do single matches or would you rather have all three at once?”

_Three at once? It's an outright gangbang_ , I thought with a mental grin. Was it bad that the idea of a bunch of Elezen men after me was not unappealing? “Am I a dragon? You usually fight as a team, don't you?” I ran through a few moves in my head, weighing my options. How to be as dragon-like as possible...? Mmm...oh yes. That might work. “Let's see some teamwork.”

“Very well.” The veteran knight turned to his now nervous trainees. “Remember, men, there is no blood-letting! Take care—you lot have blunted swords, but Ameme has no such thing. Treat her as a real opponent.”

“No fear,” muttered one of them, glancing at the remains of the dummy.

I readied my axe. “Rawr, I'm a dragon,” I said, and slammed the blade into the ground. Reddish aether erupted in a cone before me, forcing the trainees to scatter.

It was a careful dance I did, trying to scare and overwhelm without actually hurting anyone. The predicted crowd quickly gathered, but I hardly noticed because they were quiet as the grave. Only the trainees made noise, shouting to each other and trying to coordinate tactics in their native tongues. I could understand everything they said, since I was familiar with the language for some reason—I must have spent a lot of time in Ishgard before—so they had to resort to partially coded language to even come close to gaining the upper hand on me. Even then, I still kicked them around quite a bit, literally. I booted one trainee across the yard near the end of the match.

“Stay down, Oiseauvoix,” the veteran knight commanded once the man had skidded to a stop on his face. “You're dead after that one. The rest of you would be dead several times over as well if she weren't pulling her punches.”

One of the two left standing groaned audibly. “Allez!” he called. They charged.

I took a page from that crazy guy Estinien's book and jumped high into the air. Not as high as him, of course, but high enough that the trainees had to look up at me for a moment. I managed to blast them with a mid-air axe swing, sending both tumbling head over heels from the force. My landing was...not entirely graceless. My knee might feel that one in the morning.

“And now all three of you are dead,” the veteran knight concluded. “Take a break, you lot. Thank you, Ameme. That was quite dragon-like, I must say.”

_Don't gloat don't gloat don't gloat_ —

“The Dravanian Horde triumphs again!” I yelled, lifting my axe. “I'll report to the overlord that Ishgardians _still_ don't know how to dodge! Roar!”

“What!” cried one of the trainees. “I was dodging plenty!”

“ _Plenty_ is not enough against a dragon,” the veteran knight said. “There are no excuses out on the field, young man. Pray remember that and thank the Fury you learned that lesson within the safety of the training field.” He turned and bowed to Haurchefant, who had just appeared out of nowhere with an excited expression.

“Do mine eyes deceive me?” Haurchefant asked me. “Did you truly just attempt a genuine dragoon jump?”

I noticed he had a sword sheathed at his hip and a shield on his back. Haurchefant, armed? I sensed an opportunity. “Prepare yourself!” I said. “As a temporary representative of the Dravanian Horde, it is my duty to poke you hard in the sternum.”

He laughed. “And as a knight of Ishgard, 'tis my duty to put a stop to your wicked ways, dragon!” He drew his sword and shield. Face to face with a man well over six and a half fulms tall using a shield sized to match, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. It occurred to me that he was actually one of the taller Elezen in the outpost. Fun. I didn't know how strong he was, so I decided to test him out first.

Unlike the trainees, Haurchefant turned out to be _very_ quick on his feet. I had to quickly scale up my estimation of him when he pounced unexpectedly and forced me to block a heavy blow with my axe handle. He pushed forward with his shield, shoving me off balance. I skipped backwards before he could take advantage. _Bigger than Estinien and with fewer telegraphs_ , I thought to myself. Getting inside his guard was going to be almost impossible.

“I hope your shield is well-made,” I said, and threw a particularly violent wave of aether at him. He ducked behind his shield and bore the brunt of the follow-up blow without giving up an ilm of space. When I was in range, he poked his sword around the shield and tried to get me in the shoulder. I blocked with my armguard and hooked my axe around his ankle to try to trip him up.

The clever knight promptly put all his weight on that foot and swung his other around to the front as he switched stances. I had to unhook my axe and guard against another sword strike with my handle again. Anticipating his counter move, another shove with his shield, I set my shoulder against it and pushed back at an angle just slightly to the side of his trajectory. The angle of my push sent him hopping some distance away, a surprised look on his face.

“Aha,” he said, turning to confront me once more. “A subtle yet highly effective move, using my own momentum against me like that. Not something I would expect from a Dravanian, I must say!”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Oh yeah, I forgot I was supposed to be a dragon,” I said. “Let me try that again!” I threw myself into the air and tried to slam into the spot just in front of him. He used his long legs to great effect, getting himself well out of range before I landed. All I had to show for my awesome move was a puff of dirt and snow. Haurchefant rushed at me shield-first. I held my axe out of the way and used the shield as a foothold to flip over his head. I swung at his right side, intending to swat his side with the flat of my axe. He turned to his left, presenting me first with his shield and then the flat of his own blade on the side of me that I had stupidly left unguarded. I had to keep spinning to avoid him. For a precious moment we locked ourselves into an insane twirl of weapons. As we broke free, I decided to hook my axe around the edge of his shield and pull. His shield arm went just wide enough from the unexpected maneuver that I was able to dart inside and press the top of my axe against his sternum.

We froze like that, him with both arms spread and me in his face. “Poke,” I said.

Haurchefant dropped his arms and laughed. “Very good!” he said. “I yield. Ameme, you are truly a magnificent fighter. That was as much dancing as it was sparring! I confess my heart is attempting to free itself from my chest at this very moment.”

I backed away as the crowd around us clapped and cheered. They had been making noise for the past few minutes, but I hadn't really heard any of it. “That was fun,” I said. “Let's do it again some time.”

“It would be both a pleasure and an honor,” he said, beaming as he put away his sword and shield. “Now I fear duty calls...yet...” He gazed at the sky, thinking. “Hm. Yes, I believe I shall join you for dinner! There are some matters I would discuss with you.”

Since it wasn't like I had anything else to do at dinner, I agreed and we went our separate ways, him to his duties and me to kicking the trainees around to the amusement of the older knights.

Messenger duty was pretty boring, I discovered. The central highlands contained only a few active encampments, so I spent most of my afternoon traveling between Skyfire Locks and the Observatorium to the south, and Whitebrim Front to the west. Whitebrim was probably the most annoying of the three simply because it was run by Durendaire, which had some kind of rivalry going on with Fortemps. The knights out front were happy to hassle me every time I showed my face. Since both places were important to the Ishgardian war effort, they exchanged a lot of messages. My last trip ended with me sneaking past the guards out front and climbing the unnecessary amount of stairs to where Drillemont was working in the tower.

Drillemont, familiar with me thanks to the wyvern incident, accepted the letters with a simple 'Thank you'. As he sorted through them to see which required an immediate response that I could take back with me, one of his knights entered to announce, “Ser Joellaut is awake, my lord.”

“Thank Halone,” Drillemont said. “What is his condition? Can he speak?”

“He can speak but I fear he is unfit for duty,” said the knight. “He cannot leave his bed.”

“Damn! All this from a simple fall! At least he yet lives. Go back to your post, ser. You, adventurer—pray visit Ser Joellaut and take down his account of events. Return to me when you are finished.” Drillemont turned back to the letters, marching orders given.

So much for heading back for dinner immediately. I hurried to the infirmary, where I found a young Elezen man trapped in bed with his gaze glued to the ceiling. A downcast lady knight sat by his bedside. She gave me a tremulous smile and then excused herself, citing duties.

“My report?” the young man said when I introduced myself. “I don't recall anything past seeing the inquisitor...”

“Where were you?” I asked.

“By the eastern gate, I think. I saw a figure silhouetted in the lights of Ishgard, but that is all I remember.”

I wrote that down. “And how did you get back here?”

“Inquisitor Guillaime helped Ser Prunilla carry me back,” Joellaut said. “That is all I can put in the report in good conscience, I fear.”

“I'll deliver this to Lord Drillemont for you,” I said. “Just rest up.”

He thanked me and returned to staring at the ceiling. I trudged back up the tower to give the report to Drillemont and then began the trek back to Camp Dragonhead. As I passed the guard manning the eastern gate, I paused and glanced at the snow. There were no indications that anyone of any size had carried an adult Elezen male back _in_ through the gate. Ishgard sat to the north, gleaming majestically in the morning sun.

“Excuse me, what's directly north of here?” I asked the gate guard.

“Not much. A gaping chasm, essentially,” said the guard, sounding bored. “Hardly anyone uses this gate.”

“And last night...the inquisitor came in through here...?”

Now he was annoyed as well as bored. “No, he came through the southwestern gate like everyone else does—except you, I suppose. Why?”

Hmm. “So you were on guard duty last night and saw this yourself? Or was Ser Joellaut on duty?”

“I wasn't, but I heard about the inquisitor saving Ser Joellaut. He and Ser Prunilla were on patrol,” replied the guard. “Why do you want to know?”

This was troubling. “If he said the eastern gate...and silhouetted by Ishgard's lights...that means the north, doesn't it?” I asked myself. “But if there's nothing there, then...where did he come from?”

“What are you mumbling about?” the guard asked.

“Nothing. Talking to a victim of head trauma is bound to be confusing,” I said. “I think I'll check anyway, just in case.” I turned north and followed the tracks from the patrol, leaving the irritated guard behind.

The tracks led around the corner. I soon found one particular set that broke away from the standard route which headed straight for the aforementioned gaping chasm. It was so deep I couldn't see all the way to the bottom. That meant I had to search for a path down. Luckily for me, there was one that started on the western side. Halfway down the path, I found blood spots and portions of displaced snow. It looked like Joellaut had indeed fallen, at first, but as I descended, I found more and more blood until I finally tripped over the stiff tail of a dead dragon. Blood was everywhere. I searched until a strange mound of snow by the dragon caught my attention. There was no blood on it, making it stand out unnaturally. I dug through it until I found what it sought to hide: a body.

_Ew_ , I thought, staring at the broken and twisted body of a man dressed in inquisitorial robes. I searched the pockets to see if there was some kind of identifying document and came up with a bloody sheet of paper declaring the owner to be Inquisitor Guillaime, as verified by the Holy See of Ishgard.

Hrm. That wasn't good. I headed back up to Whitebrim Front.

“You're looking decidedly grim,” the gate guard observed. “Find something?”

That just reminded me that Drillemont was not going to be interested in anything I had to say. “Can you tell Lord Drillemont that I've found a corpse and he should come look straightaway? And try not to let that inquisitor spot you at it.” I showed the bloodied paper to the guard. He turned white and took off at a run. I waited for a good twenty minutes before he finally returned, Drillemont in tow.

“What is the meaning of this?” Drillemont asked. I handed him the paper. He scanned it quickly and his eyes widened. “Wha—by the Fury! I see now why you insisted I come unaccompanied, Ser Firminnant. Where is this corpse? In the chasm? I needn't see it. Come, we must catch the imposter before he realizes!”

To make a long story short, the imposter was long gone and we spent a good ten minutes running back and forth across the outpost to no avail. He had quite casually walked out the front door and disappeared into the wilds of Coerthas.

Drillemont was _not_ pleased. Prunilla, the other knight who'd seen the inquisitor come in, got hauled in front of her commander for the full story. Evidently the imposter was a heretic and Joellaut had been knocked out by an aevis, and she had kept her mouth shut after the heretic threatened her family. Drillemont took time out of his suddenly very busy day to tell me, “Thank the Fury you noticed something amiss and investigated! I shudder to think the damage that heretic would have caused if left unchecked. The Holy See shall hear of this. In the meantime, I would have you bring word of this to Lord Haurchefant. The more eyes and ears we have open, the greater the likelihood we can prevent another such incident.”

He scribbled a note for me to serve as evidence—not that I was in any danger of Haurchefant disbelieving me—and sent me on my way.

It was just my luck that the other messengers being sent every which way had taken every available chocobo from the porter. I was forced to head to Camp Dragonhead on foot. It wasn't easy being poor.

Honestly, it came as no surprise to me that I was ambushed by a dragon halfway there. A decidedly freaky-looking aevis dropped from the sky to block the road and bared its creepy flat teeth at me. I rested one fist on my hip and watched as it slowly shrank and twisted until its mass was somehow packed into the body of a tall, dark-haired Elezen man with a tiny underlip beard that looked like he'd missed a bit when shaving in the morning. He took some time to brush frost off his sleeves and straighten his robes before he addressed me. “So you're the adventurer who foiled my plans,” he said. “I think it's best I get rid of you here and now, because I can see you're going to be quite the thorn in our side.”

“Maybe you should've had a more convincing grand entry,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “Mayhap I should have simply killed the boy,” he replied. “With his contradictory report silenced and Prunella well in hand, no one would be the wiser—but the point is moot now.” He spread his arms grandly. “Here we are, you a hero and me a villain on the run...but I must ask, do you truly know the ones you serve?”

I waited to see if he would get to the point.

“Ahh, I forget,” he said. “I speak to a common sellsword who works for the highest bidder. Such a pity! I know of you, Ameme. It seems your remarkable strength has earned you quite a reputation already. You could be doing greater things than running errands for the fools of Ishgard.”

“Can we skip you trying to tempt me into switching sides? It's cliché,” I said, taking my axe out. “I don't mind you _explaining_ yourself or anything, but the rest is really not going to get you anywhere with me.”

“I see. Well, I suppose I can appreciate that,” he said. “In the end, you are a disinterested third party. Still, you are rather dangerous to have at the beck and call of my dear enemies.” He retrieved the arcane grimoire holstered at his hip and flipped it open to a seemingly random page. Dark energy began to swirl at his feet.

I sighed and got ready to dodge. The first volley of fire he sent my way was fast and white-hot, boiling away the snow into steam almost instantly. I scooted out of the way and closed the distance between us at a sprint.

Unlike the inquisitor at Camp Dragonhead, whose claim to fame came from a life of study, this guy was no stranger to battle. He avoided my strikes with remarkable nimbleness and attempted to freeze my feet in place. I blocked the bolt of ice with my axe and grabbed the front of his robes to keep him still. His spell had frozen the top of my axe to the ground, so I resorted to punching him in the solar plexus.

“Oof!” He doubled over. My axe came free. I tried to take out his knees, but he used his free hand to shove my weapon arm down long enough to move out of reach. I had to let go of his robes to avoid a nasty black blade of nothingness coming down on my neck. We backed up a step, eying each other warily. “There is a beauty to your fierceness, girl,” he said. “Come. Let us try that once more.” He summoned a massive bolt of darkness.

_Men!_ I thought in disgust. He tried to fake me out by hurling the bolt slightly to the side where he guessed I would dodge. I went the other way and finally landed a good hit on his ribs. He used our proximity to summon a levin bolt I couldn't dodge. It was like getting punched in the chest. I nearly dropped my axe. He managed to hit himself, too, so we both spent a second reeling before we resumed trying to murder each other. I noted that he did not try that trick again.

“Beginner,” I said dryly during one of our semi-frequent pauses when we stared each other down trying to think of what to do next. “Who hits themselves with their own levin bolt?”

He pressed one hand to his ribs where a fresh red stain bloomed. “A desperate move, I'll admit,” he said. His dark eyes glittered, but he was otherwise calm. “It served its purpose.” He summoned a black hole under my feet. I leapt away, only to almost get roasted by a wall of flame coming out of nowhere. When the conflagration faded away, he was much farther away and working on some kind of big spell, with one hand held aloft as the air around him pulsed. Whatever had conjured the flames seemed to be going on its own. I had to keep dodging as wall after wall appeared between us.

Someone off to the side called, “Ameme! Duck!” I hit the deck unthinkingly. A swathe of angry energy cut through the air where my head had been. I rolled out of the way of yet another wall of flame and glanced over my shoulder to see who had warned me.

Haurchefant vaulted off his chocobo, sword in hand and a determined look on his face. He brought his shield to bear and charged right at the firewall. “With me!” he commanded. The flames parted in front of him, forming a bubble of safety behind his body. I ducked into his 'shadow' and let him take me through the wall. Once through, he veered to the side to allow me to throw myself at the heretic's twisted, misshapen form. The newly transformed aevis took my axe in the collarbone and laughed.

“How knightly an entrance, Haurchefant _Greystone_ ,” it said, snapping its teeth on the last word.

I yanked my axe free and tried to get it in the neck. It reared, taking its jugular out of range, and spat blue fire in my face. I blocked with my axe blade and went for its belly.

Evidently I was no longer worthy of conversation, because it started messing with Haurchefant instead. “How do you _stand_ it? A bastard child of a High House, seemingly accepted on the outside, but on the inside ever rejected by your family...!” Haurchefant gave no reply.

“STOP being so STEREOTYPICAL!” I shouted, bringing my axe up into the aevis's soft belly. The blade bit deep, tearing open its abdominal wall. It howled and staggered. I narrowly missed getting brained by a wing. When it fell, Haurchefant lunged and got his sword into its eye.

The aevis squirmed away, losing its draconic form and deflating like a sack of air with a hole in it. Within moments, the heretic sat in its place, blood streaming from his eye and belly. “Damn it! My glamour,” he groaned. “How...?”

“You talk too much,” I said. “Are you going to detail your evil plot while we're here or should I just get it over with?”

He glared at me. “You're a fool, Ameme,” he spat. “The people you work for are far worse than me! The Holy See will destroy anyone who does not fall in step with them...! So much as question this war and—hurk!” He coughed up blood and slumped to one side, panting. “Very well,” he said. “It seems...not long for this world...Ameme, 'tis a shame we could not speak further...seek the truth, if you dare...” His face had gone bluish. His eyes rolled up in his head and he shut them. Slowly, he collapsed and went still.

Haurchefant and I stood for a while, watching the body. Finally, when his blood had stopped steaming and he had not drawn breath for several minutes, I said, “He's definitely dead.”

“Indeed,” said Haurchefant. “How came you to be fighting a heretic, Ameme?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “How did you end up riding into battle on chocobo-back?” I asked.

“Ah! I meant to find you, as it happens. I had heard you set off for Whitebrim Front some time ago, but you had yet to return though it is dinner time. I thought that strange, since it was a mere messenger task when you have returned punctually from far more difficult errands.” He studied me. “You seem not the worse for wear.”

I pointed at the heretic. “You know that Inquisitor Guillaime that was supposed to arrive? This one showed up instead, pretending to be him. Lord Drillemont had me take down the account of the knight he supposedly saved on his way in, and I noticed something odd about the details. When I investigated, I found the body of the real inquisitor at the bottom of the chasm just north of the outpost. He realized he'd been discovered, so he walked out before Lord Drillemont knew what was going on. I suppose he followed me to attack me.”

Haurchefant nodded. “Heretics are quite often vindictive, though this one seems to have been an intelligent man. No doubt he has researched the backgrounds of every authority figure on the front lines if he planned to masquerade as an inquisitor.”

His chocobo, which had decided to browse along the side of the road as though a furious battle had not been going on, let out a loud wark and plodded over to nuzzle Haurchefant's hip.

“Now I know the danger has passed if you're begging for treats,” he said to it, amused. “Care for a ride back to Camp Dragonhead, my lady?”

“Much appreciated,” I said. Haurchefant slung my things over the chocobo's saddlebags and had it squat to let me climb into the saddle. I adjusted my axe so the handle didn't poke the chocobo as Haurchefant got on in front of me. He clicked his tongue and the chocobo stood. The extra weight did not seem to bother it.

Riding as a passenger in a single-rider saddle wasn't exactly the most comfortable experience, but I didn't mind too much. It let me rest my legs after all that dodging. I tried not to notice how Haurchefant's back exuded warmth as I braced myself against him.

_It had better just be me thinking this nonsense_ , I said to myself. I'd been sleeping on a straw mat too long if I thought _this_ was in any way pleasant. The man was over a fulm taller than me, a lord of Ishgard, and most likely didn't view me that way. It wouldn't be wise on his part, regardless.

I shook my head to clear it of stupid ideas and concentrated on keeping my axe from cutting into anything as we bounced. Haurchefant brought us to a halt just outside the gates. I hopped off before he could offer to help. The whole 'gallant Ishgardian knight assisting a lady' thing was charming for about five minutes before it started grating on my nerves. I figured I'd preemptively avoid the entire issue by doing everything myself first.

“Kweh,” the chocobo said, peering down at me with big black eyes.

I patted its beak. “Good bird,” I said.

Haurchefant dismounted and fed it a krakka root to keep it from trying to steal from his hip pack. “Let us away to the mess hall,” he said. “I would share with you my thoughts on your situation over some roast karakul.”

The roast karakul sounded nice. Sure, I'd had it about three times already since arriving here, but after the day I'd had, it signaled a moment's peace. I wouldn't say no to that.

We were kind of late to dinner, what with all the excitement, but Medguistl had warm food waiting for us when we reached the mess hall. I thanked her about a dozen times as she doled out my portion. It smelled so good it practically killed me not to shovel everything into my mouth the moment I got the plate. My incredible self-control lasted until I sat at the table. Luckily Haurchefant was just as hungry, though he was much more sedate. He only started talking when I was scraping the last of the sauces from my plate and licking the spoon.

“My mind has turned to your plight frequently,” he said. “To that end, I sought out some form of news from Gridania and have learnt of a rather urgent issue. Know you of primals, perchance?”

My heart skipped a beat. Primals! That was it. “Yes,” I said. “Are the beast tribes summoning them now?”

“Keeping in mind that this is hearsay from Gridania...I hear tell of one such summoning in Thanalan. Ul'dah has laid hands on a solution, it seems, though no one knows the details.” He rested his chin on his fist and gazed at me. “Your countenance tells me I have hit upon a significant topic,” he said. “Pray tell me your thoughts.”

“I have to fight them,” I said. “I need to—they drain the land of aether when they manifest. It's a problem.”

“Primals are very dangerous, my friend! But having seen your strength firsthand, I suspect if there is anyone who could help defeat them, it is you,” he said. “Though you have been of immense help to us here, 'tis clear to me that you must travel to Thanalan immediately if you mean to assist the Brass Blades.” A wistful look flitted across his face before he smiled. “I do hope you'll keep in touch, if only to hear of any witnesses to your past.”

I put my spoon down. “I'll leave now,” I said. “Yes, I'll keep in touch. I like talking to you. Besides, how else will you be able to hear about my incredible musculature?” I flexed showily, just like I had that morning.

Haurchefant laughed. “I look forward to it! Know that you will always be welcome here at Camp Dragonhead.” He winked. “A warm bed will be waiting for you should you ever return!”

“Better than the straw mat,” I said. “Especially if it comes pre-warmed...” I paused, not sure if I ought to finish that sentence.

“Oh, I shall do my best to make certain it is adequately heated for you,” he said, grinning. “The softest, warmest sheets you shall have!”

I closed my eyes, smiling. “Mmm...sounds fantastic.” I cracked one eye open to find he was blushing just a bit. “Is this inappropriate?”

“Ah, not at all,” he said. “Truth be told, I rather—but never mind that! I shall arrange for a packed meal for you if you intend to leave straightaway.” He got up hastily.

“Haurchefant,” I said. He blinked at me and suddenly whatever I wanted to say got lost on the way from my brain to my mouth. “...I'll keep in touch.”

“And I shall gladly return the favor,” replied Haurchefant. “Stay safe, my friend. The world surely needs your strength in these troubled times.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Alphinaud, I stole your Sherlock Holmes moment. I mean I looked at the map during that part trying to figure out what was wrong, but then Alphinaud ruined everything by solving it for me and then telling me to run errands. Thanks, Alphinaud.
> 
> Those of you familiar with the ARR timeline will find I have done very strange things to it. This is mostly deliberate, although sometimes it's flat out unclear in the game when things are happening so there is also me stumbling around in a haze of confusion. Don't be alarmed, this is my standard state of mind anyway.


	2. Navel-Gazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being fashionably late is no longer fashionable if the party-goers are dead by the time you arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, there are lots of books and stories about sane people slowly going crazy but what about stories where crazy people slowly get more sane because they finally get counseling and stuff?

“Kweh!!”

I worked my hand to my face to pick at the crust of eye gunk that glued my eyelids shut. Once free, I hooked a finger on the edge of my blanket and pulled it down to glare blearily at the unfamiliar bird warking noisily in the stall with me. Why was I down here instead of—oh, that's right. I left Coerthas last night. I'd gotten as far as this chocobo stable before succumbing to fatigue. For some reason, my sleep-deprived brain had decided sleeping _with_ the chocobos was a great idea. This particular bird did not seem to mind me at all, so I had climbed in and gone to sleep next to it.

_Ah, shit_ , I thought as a strange Elezen man appeared with a fist full of greens. “Now, now, Leia,” he said. “Breakfast is the same time every morning. You know this.” He glanced into the stall and froze. “What in the—What in the Fury's name are you doing in there?”

I sat up and yawned. “I was sleeping,” I said. “Sorry, I don't know what possessed me to climb in here, of all places.”

The man quickly regained his composure. “I see,” he said. “Well, get out of there, then. And move slowly! Leia is sensitive to sudden movements from strangers.”

I yawned again and stood, scattering straw everywhere. The chocobo, Leia, peered at me with bright black eyes and whistled. “I know, I'm a mess,” I said to her. “Tell me about it.”

She chirruped and had a go at the greens in the man's hand. He pushed her beak away and let me out of the stall. “I shall have to report you to the Wood Wailers for trespassing,” he said. “That none of them stopped you in the first place...!”

“Will this take a while? Because I need to go to Thanalan to fight Ifrit,” I said.

The man's eyebrows rose. The way he looked at me reminded me of Haurchefant when he was sizing me up. “Really, now? I'm not one to pay much mind to the latest tidings about the beast tribes, but if you are that eager to save the realm, you ought to try Limsa Lominsa. They've two beast tribes making war-like noises these days.”

That sounded familiar. “The sahagin and the kobolds,” I said. “Yes. I know. I still need to fight Ifrit.”

The man hummed. “You've family? Friends?”

“No family. I have friends in Camp Dragonhead.”

He nodded. “Pray tell me your name. I shall send a message that you passed through here. I am Luquelot, by the way.”

“Ameme Ame,” I said. “I guess you may as well report me now. It doesn't matter how long it takes.”

Luquelot shook his head. “Nay, 'tis clear to me you've more important places to be. Your presence has not bothered Leia in the least, so I will let it go this once. Fare well, Ameme. I shall pray for your safety.” He turned away to feed the insistent Leia.

My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it and continued south. I had a continent to cross.

 

 ~*~ 

 

I had initially thought the Black Shroud was the worst traveling environment I had ever experienced. It was dark under the forest canopy, bandits and poachers and worse roamed throughout, and anyone even remotely affiliated with Gridania lived in fear of the elementals. Don't get me started on the terrain. Or the bugs. The giant blood-sucking bugs that liked shooting acid at you when their stingers didn't find their marks...

Then I reached Thanalan.

In terms of environment, Thanalan was the opposite of the Shroud. Desert replaced forest, aggressive ant colonies replaced giant bugs, dry replaced humid, and one misery replaced another. After the shady boughs of the forest, the naked sun on pale sand left me half-blind. It hadn't even had the grace to transition slowly from well-watered trees to dry landscape, to which my entire being took great offense. I'd crossed a few big roots, gone down some rickety steps attached to a small cliff, and BAM the temperature rose twenty degrees while sand invaded my boots.

All right, maybe it hadn't been quite that sudden. The trees shrank in girth the closer I got to the desert and the dirt grew loamy. Maybe I just resented Thanalan at first glance because I had gotten attacked by a cactus.

When I say _attacked_ , I mean a spiny ball of itchy aggravation had bounced out of nowhere and stuck onto my tunic. Any attempt to remove it resulted in it sticking to another part of my body. The cactus had to be 100% plant but the way it bounced made me think it was possessed. I had to find a dead branch to peel the damn thing off me. I was not pleased to discover the existence of tiny cactus-like creatures further along. They ran around making strange noises and seemed to me to have no purpose in life besides posing next to actual cacti. If I got too close, they would spit needles at me and flee.

The other types of wildlife I encountered were inoffensive compared to those. Snakes stayed off the road and roadrunners, which were usually in pursuit of said snakes, would simply side-eye me before going about their business. The ants, though disturbingly large, were more interested in the muddy water collected in the various wagon wheel ruts that marred parts of the road. Wild herds of aldgoats roamed in the distance, bleating to each other. It was peaceful.

_Boring_ , I thought. _Boring, hot, dusty, and_ —

I was so busy being bored by my surroundings that I almost dismissed the distant retorts of gunfire as a woodpecker. Then I remembered woodpeckers weren't common in a desert because there were no trees to peck and picked up the pace.

Sound traveled pretty damn far with no forest in the way. Even at a light jog, it took almost ten minutes to find the source of the hullabaloo. A massive stone bridge, connected to a building and surrounded by merchant tents, linked two halves of a chasm together, and it was under attack by Qiqirns of all things.

I didn't remember too much about Qiqirns, but what did come to mind was that I knew them to be merchants rather than fighters. They were close to my height and strongly resembled aardvarks in the face. They were a bit weird-looking, honestly. Not harmless, though, considering the current activities of this particular bunch. I wondered if I had ever seen Qiqirns laying siege on a bridge in my past life.

“Look out!” I heard someone shout, followed by a hail of bullets. A man with white hair and bright blue goggles on his forehead waved a gun at me and then to the side, where a Qiqirn was struggling to drag a particularly fat man into the brush. “Don't just stand there! Stop them!”

My pack was strapped on top of my axe at the moment, so I didn't bother unholstering it. I pounced on the Qiqirn and used bare fists and feet to harry it, forcing it to drop the man with an outraged squeak. Predictably, it turned to counterattack with sharp claws and teeth. I put my foot in its face, bending the long snout with a vicious snap. The Qiqirn fled screaming.

Fighting without a weapon seemed like a fun challenge. I dove into the melee with enthusiasm, only staying on the edges so I could watch for more potential kidnappings. I didn't try to kill any myself, but the man with the gun had no such compunctions and very good aim.

The invading rat people quickly decided they'd had enough and beat a hasty retreat, encouraged in part by helpful gunfire and a few men in dusty bronze armor chasing after them with swords and such. I stood amid the few casualties and studied my hands. I hadn't ended any lives in that battle, but why did I feel so strange...?

“You fight like a whirlwind.”

I glanced up. The white-haired man with the gun approached, his bearing decidedly strange. His voice was soft and he acted like a diffident sort of fellow, but I could see a lot of confidence in the way he stood and moved. In addition, the vivid turquoise blue of his goggles called attention to themselves by virtue of being the only cool color for malms. “Who're you?” I asked.

“Marques...well, that's what I'm called around here. I don't remember my name.”

That sounded awfully familiar. “So you woke up in the desert with amnesia and got named by your rescuer,” I said. “That where you learned to shoot?”

His head came up and his eyes narrowed. “...I knew that from before,” he said. “I have all my previous skills.”

If you asked me, he was kind of a weirdo. Whatever he was up to, I honestly didn't care. “Yeah, whatever. Where's the nearest town? I'm trying to find Ifrit.”

Marques went stiff. “Ifrit...the primal? Why?”

“To fight him and kill him,” I said.

“Y—what?” He boggled at me. “By _yourself?_ Are you mad?”

_Not mad, just dedicated to my job_ , I thought. “Whether I am or not is my business. Do you know where I can find him?”

“I'm not in the business of helping people commit suicide,” he replied.

Dammit. “I'm not trying to get myself killed,” I said.

Marques studied me, mouth set in a grim line. “Come with me,” he said. “I'll show you what happens to people who want to play hero.”

Ominous. I followed him for the two malms back to a place he called Camp Drybone. It was an easy walk, though my erstwhile companion was silent. I was okay with silence. What I was not okay with was the stench that gradually made itself known the closer we got to Camp Drybone. I knew that stench. It was the malodorous symptom of death, the sign that something had gone badly wrong and others had paid the ultimate price. The smell clawed its way through my nostrils and sank into the back of my throat, my stomach, until I wanted to vomit to be free of this unwanted invader. As I stood at the edge of the hole that held Drybone, I remembered a battlefield in another time and place.

How easy it would have been to slip, to fall, to join them...to find peace...

A strong, warm hand on my shoulder called me away from the edge. “Don't faint on me now,” said Marques, passing me a cloth. “Hold that over your nose. Stairs are this way.”

He led me down a rickety set of steps and across the encampment to the source of the smell. Twenty or so bodies, four charred and the rest hacked to pieces, lay organized in neat rows by a storage building. Two women in white hooded robes went from body to body, uttering last rites. I stood by one with his throat opened neatly and simply thought, _Tempered_.

“These are the casualties from the battle with Ifrit,” Marques said, voice muffled by his own cloth. “There are more wounded elsewhere, but Camp Drybone's lichyard takes the fatalities.”

I looked at the bodies and then at him. “Where is Ifrit?” I asked.

Marques's eyebrows rose, but he wasn't the one to answer me. A Brass Blade who had been saluting the dead turned and said, “Ifrit is gone. We did it. But...the price was high.” He gazed at the fallen, deep grooves etched in his relatively young face. Then he walked away. A caravan trundled up to dump even more bodies, this time ones that smelled more of charred meat than rot.

Gods damn it all. I was too late. Far too late...

 

~*~

 

_Dear Ameme,_

_Though I am loathe to admit it, my letter bears no tidings, ill or otherwise, regarding your mysterious origins. It is as though you simply materialized in Coerthas. My dear friend Francel remembers well the day you arrived in Skyfire Locks, but no one, not even the men who patrol that area regularly, can recall seeing you before then. How goes your end of the investigation?_

_Shortly after your departure, I received word that you had passed through Bentbranch Meadows, though it seems you were too late to do battle with the primal Ifrit. Would that I had triggered your memory sooner! Alas, there is nothing to be done._

_Onwards you must press, my friend!_

_Our conversation was cut short the evening you departed. I realize I was rather abrupt in changing the subject. For that, I apologize. I am not used to discussing such topics openly. Rest assured that you said nothing wrong. Much as I would like to pen my thoughts on the matter, this is a conversation I would much prefer to have in person. For now I will simply say that I greatly enjoyed the experience._

_What to write, what to write...I confess I am now merely seeking an excuse to speak to you. I pray this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. Now I shall sign and seal it and place it in the mailbox in the hopes that the mysterious moogle who mans the postbox in Ishgard can find you. May Halone guide you on your journey!_

_As always,_

_Your friend,_

_Haurchefant_

 

~*~

 

For people who couldn't see moogles, mail delivery across the realm was a semi-religious business. You had to place your letter in the mailbox, clap your hands three times in prayer, and leave a kupo nut as an offering.

All right, the kupo nut part was not true. The clapping part was only partially true. The superstitious Gridanians tended to pray to the Matron before they left their letter in the box, mainly in the hopes that the letter would arrive at the correct location in a timely manner.

The letter I got from Haurchefant was definitely the worse for wear by the time it ended up in my hands. The delivery moogle, looking very jaunty in his little postman's cap, moogled up to me, kupo'ed at me to make sure I was 'the stalwart and brave adventurer Ameme', and dropped the letter on my head before fluttering off to the next delivery. The envelope was stained with purple juices and fairly crumpled. The date was from three days ago. Haurchefant had not prayed to Halone hard enough...or maybe he hadn't sacrificed enough kupo nuts. I counted myself lucky to have even gotten it.

His handwriting was as beautiful as ever, but the contents were rather disappointing, given how outdated they now were. According to the Mythril Eye, Ul'dah's main publication, the Amaal'ja tribes had summoned Ifrit the very day I had woken up in Coerthas. The Brass Blades, as I had witnessed in Drybone, had managed to subdue it at great cost to themselves. There was talk of controversy now, since they'd had to find a good fifty volunteers who knew they were guaranteed to die in the battle. A rather brave (or stupid) journalist had seen the fight and reported that they sent three waves: the first, which got 'tempered', the second, which fought the first, and the third, which fought the primal itself.

I wrote Haurchefant back, of course, letting him know about that and the interesting fact that I was immune to tempering. That wasn't something I had accidentally discovered. It was just something I knew about myself. Midgardsormr had confirmed it when I asked. I didn't mention Midgardsormr in my letter, obviously. As for the last matter, I only reassured him that I wasn't worried and that I'd talk to him in person eventually about it.

Whether or not Haurchefant would be able to read my chicken scratch handwriting was questionable. I expected my letter would reach him, but who knew when I would get his reply, given that I had just gotten on the ferry to Limsa from Vesper Bay. How did moogles cross oceans? Another one of life's mysteries.

Since I already had some idea of where I was from—namely the future, or the future of some other possibility—my 'investigation' was more along the lines of finding out current events. Primals, the Garlean Empire, unrest among the citizens and beast tribes...Eorzea had a lot of problems.

_Too many_ , I thought as the ferry rocked in a swell. Limsa's gleaming white stone towers stood within view, as did two large ships duking it out in open waters. One flew a pirate flag while the other appeared to be a merchant vessel. Our ferry, being a lightweight forty fulm caravel, steered well clear of the battle.

Naval battles were slower than one might expect. The two were at it for nearly twenty minutes before another, larger ship popped into view. Another ten minutes went by as the new arrival got closer...and closer...and closer...finally, the pirate vessel left off harassing the merchant vessel and eased around to flee. The third ship gave chase slowly. They were still visible from the pier by the time the ferry docked and unloaded its cargo. I stood at the end of the creaking pier and shaded my eyes to watch. After a good half an hour of this high speed boat chase, the pursuing vessel finally gave up and turned back to shore.

“Ameme!”

I twitched and turned around. A vaguely familiar man with a head scarf and wide smile stood behind me, looking thoroughly delighted. Who was he...? Oh! Baderon! He ran the adventurer's guild here in Limsa Lominsa. In fact, he'd been the second or third person I'd met here.

“Thought ye'd done fer yerself when ye up an' disappeared a moon ago,” he said, striding up to me. “Where've ye _been_ , lass? Last I 'eard, ye put the Serpent Reavers down all by yer lonesome—like a Warrior o' Light, in fact. Disappeared like one, too, but least I remembered yer name afterwards.”

“...I've just been traveling,” I said when he paused, clearly expecting an answer.

His keen gaze traveled from my clothes to my axe. “Just travelin', eh? Ye've changed, lass. That armor ain't somethin' I see every day, either...”

I glanced down at myself. Again with the armor! It was too eye-catching.

“Come in and 'ave a drink,” said Baderon. “It'll be on me this time. You can tell me all 'bout what ye've been up to, how's that sound?”

He didn't look like he'd take no for an answer. I accepted the invitation and had a seat at his bar upstairs, where he poured me a frothy mug of ale. The mug stayed untouched. For some reason I was a little nervy around drinks. Wine glasses really got me going, but mugs were also a sore point.

“I've been up north,” I told Baderon to cover up the fact that I wasn't drinking, though he probably noticed. “Coerthas, you know. But I started heading south...what do you know about the primals?”

“Coerthas, eh? That's more'n a stone's throw away from Limsa, lass. Explains the gear, though—that's skyraider stuff, if I'm placin' it right. Hope ye 'voided the Ishgardians, they don't take kindly to raiders of any type.” He frowned. “As for the primals, they're bein' summoned left, right, an' center. Best stay away from those. A whole unit o' Yellowjackets can barely handle one, never mind a lone 'venturer.”

I wrapped my hands around the mug. The chill temperature of the dinged-up metal reminded me of Camp Dragonhead. “Do you know what causes the beast tribes to summon a primal?” I asked.

“I'd say it depends on the tribe,” said Baderon. “Take the kobolds up in outer La Noscea, for example: they started the summonin' in response to broken treaties with Limsa. Ye'd be right in sayin' we brought that one on ourselves. As for the fishbacks, yer guess is as good as mine. They've staked out a spot in the west and made a spawnin' ground for themselves.” He crossed his arms and pinned me with a shrewd stare. “Fair's fair,” he said. “Now ye get to tell me what ye've been up to to get that outfit.”

I wasn't a good liar. I said, “I saved the world a few times, lost someone I cared about, my soul split in two, and at least two gods agreed I should go back in time to save _them_ because otherwise the darkness would have taken over, and it would have worked except now I can't remember a thing so I don't know who I'm supposed to save.”

Baderon spent a long time not blinking. “Yer not shittin' me, are ye?” he said.

“No,” I said. “I know it sounds absurd. It doesn't matter if you believe me or not.”

He rubbed his chin. “So lemme get this straight: ye got to be a big damn hero, but ye lost it all to a broken heart and the gods granted yer wish to travel through time to fix it?”

“Not quite,” I said. “You see...they wouldn't have bothered about a broken heart. You can get over a broken heart. My _soul_ broke in two, and because it was me, that tipped the balance towards Darkness, and to save the world I had to come back to fix the split by saving whoever it is. Of course, now that I've come back to before I met the person, the split won't actually happen.” I shrugged. “Now I have to save the world like before.”

“Just like that, eh,” he said. “Ye undid all yer work by comin' back.”

No kidding. “It wasn't an easy choice,” I said. “If there were any other way, the gods wouldn't have agreed. I hope this person is worth it.”

“Must be,” said Baderon. “Now...not that I don't believe ye, lass, but ye 'ave to agree this is a hard swallow even for the most gullible, an' I'm not what ye call gullible...”

I traced a few patterns in the condensation on my mug with my thumb. “You're the only one I've told,” I said, “and only because I know you wouldn't believe anything else.”

“Yer an honest sort, an' that's the only reason I'm even considerin' believin' ye,” he said. “I just...the sacrifice ye made is staggerin'. It sounds as if ye would've soldiered on with a split soul if that hadn't endangered the world.”

I nodded. “It doesn't make much sense to go back only for myself,” I said. “I suppose committing suicide wasn't an option either.”

“Ye've got a lot to live for,” he said, a pained look flitting across his face. “I've 'ad mates who've taken their own lives. They lost everythin' an' couldn't go on. It's 'ard on the rest of us what knew them...listen, Ameme. Yer strong and the world's not done with ye yet. I've got a feelin' Llymlaen will steer ye in the direction o' this person whether you want 'Er to or not. Mayhap ye've already met 'em. Either way, ye gotta keep an eye out for 'em and protect 'em. But ye won't be alone, no. Ye'll have ol' Baderon at yer back, watchin' out for ye.” He pointed at my axe. “The scars on that blade don't come about from a moon o' adventurin', I know that much. I knew ye for a wide-eyed lass, yet here ye are with the look o' someone who's made 'arder decisions than the Admiral and is set to make more. Ye can't fake that. So I'll support ye best as I can.”

The cold mug bit my fingertips less than before. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “I really appreciate that.”

Baderon nodded, satisfied. “Yer secret's safe with me,” he said, thumping his fist to his chest. “Won't tell a soul, I won't. So ye asked about primals, and I reckon ye wouldn't 'ave if it weren't important. I 'ave it on good authority that the kobolds up north've shown signs of summoning their god Titan. 'E's a tough one – the only ones who've successfully put 'im down are the Company of Heroes, who disbanded after the Calamity. The Brass Blades over in Ul'dah used some old tactics on Ifrit an' it's been all over the papers what they 'ad to do, an' what 'appened to the men what got tempered. Lemme tell ye, it ain't pretty. People're scared, Ameme. No one wants to be turned into a thrall an' forced to fight their comrades.”

I frowned. Titan...I remembered earth shattering beneath my feet and a deep voice bellowing about trespassers. “The primals can't touch me,” I said. “They can't influence me.” I touched my temple. I could almost...nope, it was gone. “I don't remember why, but I can fight them on my own.”

Baderon fell silent, thinking. “If that's true, then ye've got more power than most'd know what to do with,” he said. “Seven 'ells, girl, if yer serious then I see why the gods would want to keep ye alive an' kickin'! What do ye want to do?”

“Stop Titan,” I said. “Find out why he was summoned and then work to fix the problem.”

“That'd mean workin' with the kobolds, aye? That won't be easy.”

I nodded. “It'll be very difficult,” I said. “Unless we want it to happen over and over again, though...”

“I get what yer sayin'. I'll see what I can do for ye. In the meantime, how's about ye keep buildin' that reputation o' yers? The Serpent Reavers've been gettin' more active lately. Should be a good warm-up for a bonafide hero, aye?” He grinned at me. “Might want to dress down a bit, though. Tell ye what, I'll send S'dhojbi to Hawkers Alley to get ye some beginner gear. Just use some glamour prisms to disguise what ye've got.”

Sounded like a plan. I finally took a sip. Blech! Who the _hell_ tried to pass this off as ale—

 

~*~

 

_My friend,_

_There has been a development in Coerthas. I fear our imposter was not as dead as he appeared to be, for his corpse disappeared from where we left it and our scouts found bloodied footprints leading north. The Holy See has sent a particularly fervent inquisitor to Whitebrim Front who, owing to the newfound paranoia brought on by the incident, has been freely interrogating our knights. Even those of higher authority, devout men and women all, have been called in for questioning._

_Of course, I do not mean to worry you with things you cannot change. I received your response to my first missive rather faster than you received mine. Moogles are a fascinating topic! I confess I've never seen any myself, though Ser Yaelle claims to have seen one fluttering over my desk in recent times. Mayhap I shall look into where one might find kupo nuts to see if I can entice one to appear. Currently, as you suggest, I do indeed utter a prayer to Halone whenever I write you!_

_Primals are not unknown in Ishgard, but we've no beast tribes here who may summon any. Upon your recounting of the battle with Ifrit, I endeavored to obtain a copy of the paper you mentioned. I must say, journalism outside of Ishgard is certainly very lurid! The sacrifices made by Ul'dah's Brass Blades left rather an impression on us all – I have forwarded a copy to the new lord commander of the Temple Knights that he may arm himself with knowledge._

_I know not how you fare in Limsa Lominsa, but the central highlands have gotten noticeably colder of late. Should you find yourself up north, know that you are always welcome to warm yourself by the hearth! A mug of hot chocolate will be waiting for you!_

_Your friend,_

_Haurchefant_

 

~*~

 

“Got a job for ye, lass,” announced Baderon when I next saw him. “Serpent Reavers'r at it again, but this time we got wind o' the location of their hideout. Admiral's asked me to send in some brave men an' women. Told 'er I knew just the person.”

_Of course_ , I thought. “So...pirates?”

“Aye, pirates.” He winked at me, then grew sober. “O' course, ye won't be the only one there. Where there's treasure, there's 'venturers out to make some gil. Now, not to make any assumptions 'bout ye now, lass, but when I knew ye you were keen to work alone more often than not. That can't happen this time, savvy? Ye gots ta work with yer fellow 'venturers 'cos this place is right dangerous for one person.”

“Work with fellow adventurers,” I said. “Got it.”

“Aye. An' don't get yerself into anythin' ye can't get yerself out of, young lady.” He gave me a stern look. When I only stared gravely back, he sighed and said, “Take yerself to Aleport and head north a ways. Should be a yellowjacket standing guard. Just say ol' Baderon sent ye an' they'll let ye through.”

Not for the first time, I wondered how people didn't get tricked more often around here. Anyone could've waltzed up and said Baderon had sent them. Without proof...

“An' you'll be wantin' to take this to prove it,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. He tipped me an old gold pocketwatch. “Now hang onto that, would ye? Don't go losin' it in a pirate's nest. Return it to me without a scratch an' I'll call yer mission a success.”

The pocketwatch sat warm and heavy in my hand. I resisted the temptation to pop open the cover and instead tucked it into my waistband, where it would nestle safely with my gil purse until I returned it.

With Baderon's blessing and a discounted meal in my stomach, I headed to my next adventure. La Noscea enjoyed hot, sunny summers punctuated by briny sea winds, and today was no exception. I toiled north from Aleport, wishing I had something lighter to wear. Technically I did, but there was no way I would ever put on that leather harness in public. It barely qualified as regular clothing, much less armor. Usually no self-respecting adventurer wore those things outside of the bedroom. If you saw someone in public with a harness, it was because they had found the kinky underbelly of adventurer clients in Limsa. That or they were Roegadyn men. Roegadyn men liked a good breeze, if you know what I mean.

“Area's off limits,” said the yellowjacket guard watching the unassuming cave entrance where the Serpent Reavers were supposedly hiding.

“Baderon sent me,” I said, showing her the pocketwatch.

She frowned. “By yerself?”

“Yes.”

The yellowjacket shook her head. “Ain't my place to question Baderon Tenfingers, but ye watch yerself in there, girlie.”

My eyes narrowed. I didn't like being called girlie, even by another woman. Still, I was sporting a mishmash of oddly colored gear in an attempt to look like a new adventurer, so I let it slide and instead asked, “So it's confirmed the reavers are hiding out in here?”

“We're ninety percent sure,” she said. “Traces o' habitation and the like, though no one's gone deep enough yet to find the bastards. Latest is there's an odd dead end area a quarter of a malm in, but if it's a secret entrance, we ain't figured out how to get past it. If ye can, leave no trace of yer passin' so's we don't tip 'em off that we know.”

_Or_ , I thought, _just find them and kill them all._

My fingers twitched. Surely...surely there was another way.

And Fray whispered in my head, _You know there isn't. It's kill or be killed._

“All right,” I said aloud. “I'll see what I can find.” I lit my lantern using the nearby torch and headed into the cave.

Footing was treacherous the first few dozen fulms, but it soon opened up into a sizable cavern full of luminescent land coral bright enough that I felt safe extinguishing the lantern. Further in, blue aetherial energy pockets shifting under the direction of unseen forces lit my way. I stood next to one of the energy pockets and listened to the soft drips that echoed through the chambers. The caves took the slightest scuffle of my feet and bounced it around until I sounded like a crowd of people shuffling along.

_That's no good_ , I thought. I swapped out my heavy steel-toed boots for soft leather sandals and padded quietly along the closest thing to a path I could find. The few quiet clicks produced by my axe hitting a belt buckle could not compete with the water drips, nor the sound of a tiny underground stream which ran under the energy pockets in the second cavern.

For something that only had a tiny hole for an entrance, the Sastasha cave system was huge and complex. I could have spent days roaming inside, and I certainly would have if I hadn't found so much trash. Beyond spoiling the natural beauty, the trash itself indicated the presence of long time residents of the pirate variety. Broken axe heads, old bandanas too torn to be of use, wine bottles, dismantled crates, destroyed barrels, and unidentifiable stains told a story of men and women who couldn't be arsed to take care of themselves or their surroundings. It led me straight to their secret.

Under one of the biggest trash piles, I found the only paper in the place: torn strips from a merchant's tally list with notes written in handwriting worse than mine on the back. There were three notes, all talking about colors of food that the captain liked. Red, green, blue...wine, cabbage, seas...it sounded like code to me.

“Red, green, blue,” I muttered to myself. “Red, green, blue...” I rearranged the stack so blue was on top and tucked them back under a barrel.

Now to find an area with suspicious red, green, and blue items or formations. This was easier said than done. _Everything_ was red, green, and blue. I decided to look for the odd dead end the yellowjacket had mentioned in the hopes that there would be something significant there.

I had figured the caves would be a lot more dangerous than they were, just based on all the warnings. I was sadly disappointed. The place was not dangerous, unless one considered the odd bat swooping past to be potentially fatal. I certainly didn't. Even when I went deeper and angry aurelia tried to attack my head with their stinging tentacles, I wasn't particularly worried. In fact, I...

_Don't you think there's something better we could be doing with our time?_

“Shut up, Fray,” I muttered. “No one asked you.”

_I'm sure you have your reasons. You always do._

I refused to talk to myself. I might've been a broken mess of a person but I wasn't _crazy_. Well, mostly. Um.

_Mostly._

If a mental voice could have a tone, Fray's would have been mocking. She didn't even have to 'say' anything after that. Her disapproval with this entire endeavor came through loud and clear as I laid waste to aurelias, bats, and hostile fairy lights.

If she was supposedly another part of me, I didn't see how I could be arrogant enough to think typical adventurer work beneath me. Adventuring was menial work. It was wandering into smelly caves to find pirates, it was fetching things, it was delivering letters between feuding neighbors...

_What I mind_ , said Fray, _is being told to do this nonsense when there is more important work afoot._

_It's either this or sitting around in the Drowning Wench eating slop_ , I thought, swatting away a fairy light.

_Slop is a good word for it_ , she replied.

Our conversation ended abruptly when we noticed a lot of noise up ahead. I mean _I_ noticed. There was no we and I was definitely not having a conversation with myself. Anyway, the noise was very distinctly Spoken, given that I could hear at least one man yelling over several women. I sped up to see what was going on.

If there was a picture by the entry for 'doing it wrong' in the phrase book, it would have been of this group. I made it round the bend and into a truly gigantic cavern to find these four unfortunate souls disturbingly close to biting the dust. The cavern, if I may describe scenery beforehand, was extensive and full of peculiar rock formations, crannies, and cliffs. Angry fairy lights flashed through the air, casting wild shadows on every possible surface and confusing the hell out of everyone.

Fairy lights, despite their inoffensive name, were actually quite aggressive. I could see a swarm bombarding a tall figure and a tiny figure—Elezen and Lalafell, or female Roegadyn and Lalafell, if I had to guess—and two separate swarms attacking a man off in the relative distance and a young woman clinging to a small cliff. The young woman hung on for dear life as the fairy lights yanked at her long hair and set fire to her hat. As for the man in the distance, he was making the most noise as he shouted something about heals. Only an idiot wouldn't have realized he was too far for spells to help.

I could tell the group was a hot, steamy pile of shite, but I didn't think they deserved to be abandoned. Yet. So I swatted the fairy lights from the young woman, quashed them with a good vent of aether, and sent her hat flying into the nearest puddle. The hat extinguished with a sizzle.

“Oh!” said the young woman, unscrunching herself enough to see me. “T-thank—eep!” She lost her grip on the cliff. I barely nabbed her by the wrist in time. Once she'd stopped sliding, I dragged her onto the path and went to save the rest.

The big-small pair was just as easy to rescue as they were standing still, but the man up front was a pain in the ass because he kept flailing with his axe, making it unsafe to approach. He also kept harping about getting heals. I popped fairy lights one at a time, very patiently, until there were few enough that he could actually pay attention to his surroundings.

“Oi,” I said when he calmed down enough to aim and squash the rest by himself. “Are you blind? Your healer was way back there.”

The man was Hyur, a midlander like myself, so there wasn't a huge height difference to prevent me from staring him down. He blinked at me and took a step back. “Huh?”

The young woman came tripping on her own feet. “Avere!” she cried. “Oh, are—are you—”

“Thal's balls, Edda!” said the man. “I thought you were right behind me!”

Edda sank to the ground in relief and exhaustion. Her voice wobbled as she said, “I was, but—but you ran ahead and I fell off the...”

“Fell off? Are you serious?” Avere demanded. “Edda, you can't keep falling behind—”

“ _Oi_ ,” I repeated, stepping between them. “Listen. Avere, right? You need to pay more attention to what your healer is doing. If she's slower than you, you slow down to match her. If you don't, you don't get heals, and you get the situation you were just in. Got it?”

“If we went at her pace, we'd never get anywhere,” complained the tallest of the group, a female Elezen archer. “She can barely heal as it—”

I instantly lost my temper. “ _Shut your godsdamned mouth!_ ” I snapped. My voice echoed. The others froze. I took a deep breath. Calm down...calm down...

_Should have left them_ , Fray whispered.

“I'm sorry,” Edda said in a tiny, tiny voice.

I'd wondered why I hated other adventurers back then. Now I knew. I definitely still hated them. “Look,” I said. “Individually you _might_ be good. I don't know. As a _team_ you are obviously complete trash. If you can't work together, you're going to die. So stop complaining about each other and try to be a team. If you break up after this, fine, not my business. But today just learn to work with each other's strengths and weaknesses so you can get out alive and say you weren't killed by a bunch of fairy lights.”

Speaking of those, I could see more materializing nearby. Hmm...were they coming out of that giant clam? That was annoying. I stalked over to it and brought my axe down on the shell, shattering it. The newly born fairy lights scattered and dimmed, cut off from their source of vitality. I got rid of them, too.

The resident Lalafell spoke up. “Might I propose for the time being that we stick together?”

If they hadn't all been looking at me, I would have happily assumed he was talking to his group. “I'm not here to babysit,” I said.

“I will be the first to admit that what you saw back there was an incredibly poor show,” he said. “Despite your justified lack of esteem, I swear to you we are usually fairly functional.”

I briefly considered the idea of simply leaving them behind, but then Baderon's voice turned up like an unlucky omen, muttering in my ear about cooperating with other adventurers and whatnot. “Fine. You guys seen any unusual things around here that happen to be red, blue, and green?”

“That's _everything_ in here,” said the Elezen archer.

“She's asking for something that's all three at once,” the Lalafell said. “The closest is probably those big coral formations in the corner...”

“Edda thought those were pretty, but I didn't think anything of them,” said Avere. “Did you notice anything unusual, Liavinne?”

“Only that they were large,” replied the Elezen archer.

“Show me,” I said.

They took me across the water-logged cavern to a small alcove absolutely covered in blood and entrails. Half in the water laid the carcass of a small coeurl.

“We nicknamed it Chopper,” the Lalafell, Paiyo Reiyo, explained. “A tough battle but we saw it through. It was just in our exploration that we slipped up a bit...”

Gross. I picked my way around the blood splatters to examine the large jutting coral formations decorating the alcove. It was hard for me to understand why Edda would have thought they were pretty. Up close, I could see they were actually quite dead. Dead coral was normally white in color, but someone had chosen to carefully paint the formations so they didn't look as though they had departed this earth just yet.

These had to be what those coded notes referred to, but for the life of me I couldn't find anything that looked odd besides the coral itself. Digging at the bases of all three yielded nothing save for a suspicious amount of soft dirt. Frustrated, I sat back and noticed a rather large footprint pointed at the wall. It was definitely fresh since the owner had walked through the blood and left traces of their passing. The idiot group could not have been the ones to make the track, either. It had to be twice the size of Liavinne's foot at least. I stood next to it and concluded a Roegadyn had been through here.

Obviously they would have seen the dead coeurl and taken precautions. That meant removing or hiding whatever it was that helped one enter the secret hideout.

“Tell me,” I said, not glancing at the group, “did any of you hear the yellowjacket outside say not to leave a trace of your passing? To, for example, avoid tipping them off as to our presence?”

Silence. They didn't have to say a word.

“Good job,” I said. “Now they know.” I poked around the alcove suspiciously. The footprint had pointed to a rather blank part of the rock wall. Some scrapes near the top led me to believe it was really a door. Now I just had to figure out the opening mechanism.

“This might be it,” said Paiyo Reiyo, pointing at the lower left portion. Being a Lalafell, he had a different view of the place than the rest of us and had spotted something around knee height. I investigated the spot and found a flat rock cunningly hiding a small switch. Paiyo Reiyo pressed it as I readied my axe in case there were pirates waiting on the other side. The hidden door grated as it opened to reveal a wide passageway.

“Oh, isn't this marvelous, my love?” Edda whispered to Avere. “We found the entrance!”

I glimpsed Liavinne's expression as Edda spoke. The Elezen archer's lip curled in disgust as her eyes darted in Edda's direction. The expression was fleeting at best, gone before Liavinne readied an arrow.

“Aye, it's right bleedin' fantastic now they know we're coming,” Avere replied. “Idiots, the lot of us. And if you hadn't been so damn slow—”

“I'm sorry—” Edda began.

I whirled when I was certain we were safe. “You two! Save it for outside!” I snarled.

Annoying. They were all so...so...incompetent. Why was I always the one having to clean up after—no, that was uncharitable. I just needed to complete my task and—

_Why am I always the one having to clean up after these idiots?_ Fray whispered. _Every godsdamned time. I traveled through time to save him and yet here I am, still doing this shite..._

I paused, staring into the passageway. Was this how I had split apart the first time? I wondered. When I stifled my feelings, my irritation, did they all go to Fray? Was that all Fray was?

She had no answer for me. That was fine. I didn't need one if I already knew.

“Sorry about that, Ameme,” said Paiyo Reiyo. “What do you want to do?”

What else was there to do but continue? “We're going in,” I said. “Keep your mouths shut. _Or else._ ”

_Or else so help me I will kill you myself._

 

~*~

 

_My dear friend,_

_What a fascinating glimpse into your life! I confess to never having put much thought into what may happen to adventurers who do not work well with others. I expect those without the mettle to survive and thrive are quickly weeded out by the rigors of adventuring. By the time they reach Camp Dragonhead, they tend to be veterans of a sort. Coerthas has ever been a harsh land, with the weather rendering it even more inhospitable than since before the Calamity._

_In the spirit of sharing, allow me to recount a recent happening! (scribble scribble – looked like 'Twas the night before last') I had thought to rewrite this so that it may be without blots, but I fear paper for personal correspondence is rather scarce these days. Some few nights ago, I happened to visit Lady Ninne during my dinner rounds, whereupon we had the following conversation:_

_Said I: “Lady Ninne, how fare you this day?” Which is my usual greeting to her, should I be the one to approach. One must always be courteous to ladies, as I have been taught, though Lady Ninne is known to maintain an informal attitude towards others._

_Lady Ninne replied: “Lord Haurchefant, have you heard of the very latest nonsense?”_

_Now I, not being the sort to pay mind to nonsense, took pause at her tone. “Not at all, Lady. Is there some issue?”_

_Said she: “Not at all, only that Ser Courafaut has invented a new game for the knights to play and it causes me some concern as it has to do with booting around some poor urchin. With no protection, even!”_

_You may laugh at this, my friend, but what sprang to mind was not the creature but a vision of the knights putting boots to the backside of some poor child! My second thought was that she meant spiny urchins rather than children. In any case, I managed to wrestle my thoughts into order and replied thus: “I suppose knights must find their amusements wherever they can.”_

_Said she: “At the expense of our healers' time? They should rethink this activity! There are other ways to deal with boredom. I would encourage more private activities ahead of kicking a creature into a barrel, in truth.”_

_(scribble) Said I: “My lady, I shall do my utmost to investigate this new game and ensure that no one is unduly injured in the quest for entertainment. Thank you for bringing it to mine attention.”_

_Before you think to ask, she did indeed mean she preferred our residents to spend time engaged in intimate bedroom acts as opposed to this latest sport. Lady Ninne has ever been frank about such things. I imagine you two would get along wonderfully! I am sure she would have much and more to say about the couple you met._

_As for this sport, a quick investigation led me to the outside latrines, where a group of knights were engaged in that very activity. I must say it was thoroughly entertaining simply watching them go about trying to kick the urchin into the barrel. This particular urchin retained its long, thin needles well under pressure, resulting in more than one incident of a knight hopping frantically with a foot full of spines, kicking in vain to dislodge it._

_Loath as I was to interrupt their fun, I stepped in when the urchin attached itself to someone's shoulder after an energetic round of flailing. One cannot have one's knights missing eyes or limping because of a mere game! I had them clip the spines to a few ilms in length...and no doubt to Lady Ninne's horror, played a round of it myself with the others. I came to no harm with the needles blunted as they were, though more than a few of the knights came away with holes in their limbs!_

_I know you've a great task ahead of you, but should you find yourself with time and energy on your hands once you have completed it, I pray you will visit your friends in Coerthas to see our next spineball tourney. Mayhap participate! I've no doubt you would quickly become reigning champion!_

_Until then, my friend! Take care of yourself!!_

_Haurchefant_

 

~*~

 

I volunteered myself to be in the first wave against Titan.

The first wave was volunteers only, you see, and only amongst the yellowjackets. Baderon got me a uniform to glamour and helped me get into the strategy meeting, where no one gave me a second glance because the crowd was dense and my slight frame disappeared among the burly Roegadyns and brawny Hyurs. The admiral, a Roegadyn woman named Merlwyb, was not given to rousing speeches. She talked grimly about the primals and the sacrifices that had to be made. She thanked us and said survivors got a sweet pension deal. She was very realistic about the chances of the volunteers getting that deal, though.

I didn't care about getting pension since I wasn't on the payroll. My only goal was to get in and fight Titan. With any luck, I could save some lives. If I got snuffed out, Midgardsormr would be down one champion of the realm.

The other volunteers were as grim as the admiral as we waited in front of an old aetheryte crystal, with one young Roegadyn man muttering, “Don't know why she bothered mentionin' that pension plan if we ain't gettin' out alive!” A second group, unrelated to the much-vaunted alliance of the city-states but held in high regard, was supposed to come in to activate the crystal. I hadn't heard much about the group save that it was called Scions of the Seventh Dawn. I assumed they were one of the many secretive caster orders that ran around Eorzea.

When the Scions showed up, the lack of hooded cowls came as a surprise. There was a Miqo'te conjurer, several Hyurs, a Lalafell, and an Elezen. Only the Elezen looked like he might belong to a cult thanks to his hooded cloak, but the goggles he wore made me think of goblins instead. Quite a motley crew, if you asked me. All save for one Hyur woman wearing pink gathered around the stone. The woman in pink chose to address us, sorrow on her face. “Men and women of Eorzea,” she said, “know that I grieve that this choice had to be made. Would that we could send one blessed with The Echo with you—”

An achingly familiar pulse in my temple took over my senses, making me flinch. The world faded into memory not my own—

_Hear..._

“ _Is there no other way?” cried the woman in pink. “Too many have been lost, and now we must send more to their deaths?!”_

_Feel..._

“ _You know there is not, Minfilia,” said the Miqo'te conjurer. “Thancred is the only one we can spare if the rest should be allowed to return home, and he must stay back to give the signal for the second wave to enter.”_

_Think..._

_Not now_ , I thought, pulling myself away.

—The woman wound up her sad speech with, “May you walk in the light of the crystal, my friends.”

There was a short silence. Someone said, “Right, who's first?”

“I am,” I said.

“Nay, we all go together to meet our fates,” a grizzled old man said. “We won't leave ye to go alone, lass. Everyone here's already said their good-byes, so there's no use in waiting.”

Pity they had to be so brave. We clustered around the crystal as the Scions began channeling aether. I put my arm out. My fingers brushed the surface. The crystal pulled my whole being through to another place entirely.

It was a giant cavern in what felt like the heart of a volcano, littered with boulders veined with glowing minerals that lent an eerie light to the place. The atmosphere was hot, thick, and heavy on my chest. The aether crawling through the air burned through my cheap glamour immediately, leaving me in my skyraider furs.

“Gods,” moaned one of the volunteers. “Where...?”

As he spoke, the boulders scattered on the platform before us moved with a great groaning sound. The sound was tremendous as they slammed into each other and, for lack of a better word, _squirmed_ in an unnatural manner until they formed a massive boulder body.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS IN THE TERRITORY OF MY CHILDREN?” bellowed the newly-manifested Titan. I could just about see his tiny head on top of his massive shoulders, his eyes practically leaking aether.

“The Maelstrom of Limsa Lominsa!” replied the grizzled old man. There was no fear in his eyes.

“Oi,” said one of the younger men to me, noticing my outfit. “You ain't...wait a second! Who are you?”

“FOOLISH OVERDWELLERS!” Titan howled, raising a fist. I dashed forward and put my hand out, praying that my half-remembered instincts were right. He dropped his fist and let loose a blast of energy. Several others ran forward as well. I felt it hit—

The energy screamed past, split in two by my presence. Those directly behind me were protected, but the ones who had run bravely past me to meet the energy were instantly 'grounded'. They staggered to a stop, gazing at Titan with open reverence.

“Stay back, all of you,” I said to the ones left untouched.

My actions got Titan's attention. He shifted his weight and bared his teeth at me.

“THOU ART LATE, BRINGER OF LIGHT,” he said. “TIME SLIPS AWAY FROM THEE AS A FAST-RUNNING STREAM. IFRIT RAGED AGAINST THE SPOKEN UNOPPOSED.”

My eyes narrowed. He knew me for who I was. Well, he _was_ a being of aether after all. “I'm all caught up,” I said. “You know I can't let you stay manifest, Titan.”

“KNOW THAT I GIVE NO QUARTER REGARDLESS,” he replied. “LEAVE THY COMRADES TO THEIR BATTLE.” He charged.

Shouts broke out behind me as the grounded volunteers turned on their former comrades. I ran to the other side of the platform with Titan pounding after me, the ground cracking more with every heavy footfall.

“Adventurer!” someone shouted near me. The Hyur Scion, Thancred, had joined me. “I'm with you! Keep his attention!”

Titan tried to pound him into a pancake immediately. I slammed my axe into Titan's knee, sending his aim askew. Thancred pranced out of the way and laid into his elbow. Compared to my blows, his were light, speedy, and graceful. Meanwhile, I took out great chunks with each hit, slow as I was. Soon, I was regularly kicking large rocks out of the way so I wouldn't trip.

Titan howled at a particularly big chunk falling from his chest. He waved one hand and Thancred's graceful movements stopped, his legs suddenly encased in solid rock. “Oh, great!” he groaned. I ducked between Titan's legs and smashed the rock prison in time for both of us to dodge another aetheric landslide. Thancred now had a distinct limp, but he was still up and fighting so I ignored it.

Titan could not keep up with both of us. The arm Thancred had been worrying at came off with the next blow from my axe. I followed that up with a hit to his chest, breaking open the rock that formed his torso and exposing the golem heart that pulsed at his center. My final attack bit into the heart, releasing the trapped aether. Titan reeled and stopped attacking.

“VERY WELL, BRINGER OF LIGHT,” he said as bits began falling off him of their own accord. “THOU HAST TRIUMPHED ONCE MORE. BUT WHAT OF MY CHILDREN? WOULDST THOU LEAVE THEM TO THEIR FATE AT THE HANDS OF THE OVERDWELLERS?”

“I'll think of something this time,” I said. “They won't be abandoned.”

He crumbled to dust. This was as loud as everything else he'd done, like monstrous hammers banging together. In the subsequent ringing silence, I heard skittering as kobolds observing at a distance retreated.

“Well, then,” said Thancred, posing artfully with one hand on his chin. “I suppose that takes care of our rocky little problem.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the cavern, where the free-thinking volunteers had successfully subdued the four grounded men. “What say we go back outside and have a little chat, _Bringer of Light?_ Curious nickname, by the way, and one used by our erstwhile god at that. I should like to know how you earned it.”

“ _You_ should take them outside by yourself. I need to speak to the kobolds,” I said. “Tell the admiral she will likely be talking to me regarding the kobolds in the near future—and I _will_ be enforcing any deals made at this time. I don't want to have to keep fighting Titan and I'm sure she doesn't want to either.”

Thancred was taken aback. “I see...you're a woman who knows her own mind. I admire that. Very well. I do hope to see more of you in the future. By the by, would it be possible to get an actual name?”

I eyed him suspiciously. He was in earnest. “...Ameme.”

He bowed. “Well met, Mistress Ameme,” he said. “I shall see the others to safety, never fear. I wish you luck with the kobolds. Needless to say, it would do us all good were you to prevent any future summonings.”

I stopped paying him much attention after his pledge to help the rest, instead scanning the place for some sort of tunnel opening the kobolds might've used. Aha! Success! I headed to the dark hole in the back of the cavern.

The tunnel was kobold-sized, so I had to duck and let my axe scrape the sides on occasion. It was a rat maze in there, but they hadn't set it up to actively force others to get lost. Everything was square corners and doors. The kobolds retreated when they saw me over and over until I had quite a few 'cornered' in a back cave I found.

“Overdweller!” I heard several hiss. “It came back here! Hide the children!” The seething mass of armored kobolds clustered in the far corner, whiskers twitching.

“I come in peace,” I said. “Though I have sent your god Titan back to the aether stream, I wanted to speak to you regarding your troubles. It's my understanding that Limsa Lominsa broke treaties with your people, yes? And that prompted you to summon your god?”

The kobolds spent some time muttering to each other before one stepped forward as spokesperson. “Overdwellers have broken many treaties, always in your desire for more land, more resources,” the kobold squeaked. “Trust has been betrayed too many times!”

_Ho boy,_ I thought. This would not be easy.

“Some of us did not wish to summon our Father,” said another kobold. An argument instantly broke out about the whole thing.

“Enough!” I shouted over the squeaking din. “This is an debate I will not take part in, save to say that summoning Titan was not the solution, in my honest opinion. Rather than treaties, might you consider more of a business deal instead?” I waved around the room. “You are preeminent miners. Could you not negotiate a deal with other overdwellers in which you export some of what you mine?”

Dead silence. I had a feeling I was not working with a people who understood money or deals. Finally, one ventured, “Export?”

“All right. Let's start with the basics of economics,” I said. “After this, one of you will take me around to the biggest points of contention with the overdwellers and then I will speak to their leader regarding this. I can't do everything for you, so I expect you guys to step up and learn what I'm trying to teach, okay? Okay. So about the resources...”

 

~*~

 

_My friend,_

_By the Fury! I could not believe mine eyes when I read your latest letter! 'Twas the stuff of heroes, Ameme! I could not have imagined you would not only face a primal nearly on your own, but live to tell the tale in glorious detail in our correspondence! You say you are immune to their influence as well. This is a relief! Your opening statement nearly gave me cause to panic, only to soothe me in the next sentence. You are quite all right now? You may tell your dear friend Haurchefant everything!_

_The Mythril Eye made mention of Limsa's triumph over Titan with only a few casualties—those whom you said ran out from behind you—so I laid hands on a copy of the Harbor Herald issue in question. They made mention of you only as a 'mysterious adventurer' who infiltrated the Yellowjacket ranks and heroically saved everyone. Such courage! My admiration for you is beyond words!_

_Regarding your request for advice on brokering a trade deal between the kobolds and Limsa Lominsa: I forwarded your query to Count Edmont de Fortemps. Enclosed is his advice. I pray it will be of use to you._

_The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are something of a legend. They were renamed following the Calamity and consist of Archons, or scholars from the fallen Sharlayan, and individuals such as yourself who exhibit certain talents. I am none too clear on what those talents may be, but I would assume being able to defeat primals singlehandedly would count as such! Should you find an opportunity to ally yourself with them, I believe you should take it. They are staunchly neutral, which will save you some grief in terms of the politicking that is rampant among city-states._

_You needn't worry about the situation in Coerthas. 'Tis clear you've a great many troubles of your own! Just know that you will be welcomed with open arms at Camp Dragonhead whenever you should visit._

_Your dear friend,_

_Haurchefant_

 

~*~

 

“The Antecedent has been dying to speak with you for weeks,” Thancred informed me as he escorted me through the Waking Sands, headquarters of the Scions. “For someone so famous already, you're a difficult woman to find! I shall count my blessings that I caught you as you were leaving the admiral's office.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“All right, I admit it: I tracked you down with Baderon's help. You already have his loyalty so getting him to cooperate was quite a feat in and of itself that I fully attribute to my incredible charisma.” He opened the door to the solar with considerable aplomb and bowed. “After you, my lady.”

The woman in pink, Minfilia, looked up from some paperwork at the desk. “Oh! You must be Ameme!” she said, bouncing to her feet.

The Miqo'te conjurer standing by the desk assessed me with a poker face. “Ahh,” she said. “Now here's a woman who won't fall to your charms, Thancred.”

“Y'shtola! I'll have you know I was making no such attempt,” Thancred said with much dignity, letting the door shut behind us. “Though Ameme, of course, is quite the fierce beauty in her own right and I would—”

“Not interested, so just stop,” I said. As he gaped in surprise and Y'shtola chuckled, I looked to Minfilia. “What did you want to see me about?”

Minfilia seemed to be enjoying Thancred's embarrassment. “Oh—first and foremost, I wished to thank you for your intervention with Titan and the kobold tribes,” she said, smiling at me. “I have been keeping abreast of the goings on and I was very pleasantly surprised to hear you chose to work with the tribes and with Limsa Lominsa to come to a peaceful resolution. What is your view on how that is progressing, if I may?”

“About as well as you could expect, given the kobolds don't understand business or trade agreements,” I said. “Add to that the fact that the various orders can't agree on anything and it's a struggle moving in any direction that isn't backwards. The 789th Order is taking over for me soon since they seem least confused by what I'm teaching them.”

“I take it you did not mean to stay with the kobolds, then?” she asked. I shook my head. “Ah. Where will you go next, then?”

I shrugged. “Gridania, I suppose. The Ixal were making lots of threatening noises when I was there last.”

“Do you mean to save all Eorzea?” Thancred asked, a bit incredulously.

“How is she meant to answer that, Thancred?” Y'shtola asked. “She is doing her part, just as the rest of us.” Addressing me directly, she said, “You will have my full support, Ameme. I think I speak for all the Scions in that. Limsa Lominsa is my responsibility among the Scions and words cannot describe the relief I felt when I heard you were _helping_ the kobolds. I've long held the opinion that Titan's coming was something Limsa brought upon itself because of the broken treaties. Glad am I that you chose to work with both parties in a way that I pray leads to a brighter future for all.”

“Oh yes,” said Thancred. “I'll not fault her that! Why, working out trade deals instead of simple treaties was genius—almost Ul'dahn, in fact, though you do not appear to be the desert type.” He looked me up and down.

My upper lip curled at the mention of Ul'dah. “I don't care for _their_ outlook, but trade deals offer more permanency than treaties. If that's all, I need to go back to the mines...”

“Ah, if you could spare a few more minutes,” Minfilia said, speaking quickly. “I apologize for pulling you away from your task. I would like to extend to you an offer to become a Scion of the Seventh Dawn. You've worked a miracle and assumed a position of absolute neutrality for the good of the realm, and I feel that fits our mission very well.”

I recalled Haurchefant's letter. Hm. All right, but I wouldn't make it easy. “You're housed on Ul'dahn soil,” I pointed out. “Is that truly neutral?”

“Yes...it has been our headquarters for some time, and Ul'dah realizes we are not here to serve their interests,” she said. “I do understand your concern. We take pride in our ability to speak true to any member of the Eorzean Alliance because of our position.”

“Do I detect a hint of dislike for Ul'dah?” Thancred asked me.

“Anyone who prefers to be a free agent dislikes Ul'dah and its politics,” Y'shtola said.

Thancred spluttered. “Wh—Y'shtola! Ul'dah is a jewel of the desert! The finest silks, the most beautiful dancers—”

“And the Syndicate,” Y'shtola noted. “Let us not get into the many ways the Monetarists have attempted to get the Scions into their very, very deep pockets.”

Thancred clapped a hand over his chest. “Y'shtola, you _wound_ me with your jabs at my adopted homeland! The Monetarists are corrupt, 'tis true, but the people of Ul'dah are kind and welcoming...!”

“Oh, I'm not arguing _that_. I'm merely pointing out that our friend Ameme here has good reason to be suspicious of the location of Waking Sands.”

Minfilia cleared her throat. “As you can see, we've many a spirited discussion amongst ourselves,” she told me. “Needless to say, we view all the people of Eorzea as worthy of assistance and do our best to see to the coming of the dawn in this era of darkness. What say you to joining us?”

I glanced at the smug Y'shtola and sulking Thancred. Then I looked at the hopeful Minfilia. The broken staff behind her caught my attention. It was mounted in a lightbox and looked important. _How curious_ , I thought. _It seems so familiar._ “I'll join you,” I said.

Minfilia's face lit up. “You will? How wonderful! Let me get you a linkpearl—oh no, Thancred, she'll want to return to the mines after this, we can do paperwork later—” She bounced around the desk, rummaging through drawers, until she found the tiny shell-shaped ear clasp. After a few tests in which Thancred tried to recite poetry to me only to be viciously shut down by Y'shtola, I was good to go. I dropped the clasp in my pack and forgot about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ameme is not getting counseling, sorry.


	3. War Cries and Axe Brandishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garleans and Dragons and Knights, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, lovely readers. This is a super huge chunk for you, now I just have to write the rest. Which can only be done if I manage to stop skipping ahead to write all the funny scenes.

Something was going down in O'Ghoromo. The area, normally ridiculously noisy thanks to the various mining activities all kobolds engaged in during waking hours, was dead silent and what few kobolds I could find were out of their minds with anxiety.

Other than my initial foray into the bowels of the volcano, I did not enter the kobolds' territory alone out of both politeness and a deep dislike for dark smelly tunnels that could collapse on you at any moment. If I had no escort, I didn't go in. Simple as that. Kobold children had more than once stopped in mid-sentence and dragged me out of a tunnel minutes before it collapsed. The adults were far more sensitive to the shifting of the earth and would often casually walk about from tunnel to tunnel, knocking on the walls to see if anything was in danger of collapsing. If they heard something they didn't like, they simply hauled all their equipment out of the tunnel and sure enough, a bell or so later the tunnel would be caved in and useless.

That was why I look one look at the dark, gaping maw that served as the entrance to O'Ghoromo and did an about face. Camp Overlook, a Maelstrom encampment just on the edge of the kobolds' territory, happened to be nearby and contained a certain juggernaut of a woman who happened to get along with me very well indeed.

“Ah-meh-meh!” the aforementioned woman bawled when she spotted me passing the fortifications outside the camp. “Seven 'ells, woman! Where've ye been? Them yelleh-bellied rat-arsed scurvy-ridden thesauruses got themselves a situation, ye ken?”

I barely understood her half the time but it didn't matter. I knew a kindred spirit when I saw one. “Thanalan,” I said. “What happened?”

“Oh, not much,” said Skaetswys sardonically. “Just a biggun collapsed and some hare-brained milquetoast of a kobold came a-scuttlin' out shriekin' 'is 'ead off bout some ghost er summat—then 'e kicked the bloomin' bucket right afore our eyes. Never seen a thing like it. Gi Gu pried 'is paw open and found... _this_.” She pulled a small object from her coat pocket to show me.

It was...uh...hm. Purple, shiny, looked like quartz. I could feel something wrong with it, though I had no idea why. Was it the smell...? The color was weird...? I put my hand out to touch it and froze. What was th—

Seemingly without my permission, my hand took it upon itself to slap the crystal out of Skaetswys's hand. She started to protest, but the look on my face stopped her. My voice, too. “You bloody fool,” I said. “Why would you handle that without gloves? You _know_ how dangerous raw aether can be.”

Skaetswys eyed me, then took several measured steps away from the crystal. And me. Probably both. “So ye reckon it's corrupted?” she asked. “Don't tell me that's what got the whole of O'Ghoromo into this state.”

“It's not corrupted,” I said. Why was I—oh, for fuck's sake. Fray, go back to your cave! “It's a crystal of darkness. Only Ascians should have those. Makes me wonder how in the seven hells a kobold got hold of it.”

Oh. Plot twist.

As I decided it was probably good to have Fray around, my heart suddenly seized in my chest. The feeling of my body not being quite in my control disappeared, leaving me with the weird sensation of having the breath knocked out of me without taking a single blow. Warmth flooded my body a moment afterward, soothing the ache. I shook my head, willing the warring sensations away.

Skaetswys didn't notice anything amiss. She said, “Ascians, eh. Wossat? The _mortal enemy_ of the Bringer o' Light, as in yerself? And here we was thinkin' ye only hated primals an' broken treaties.”

I gave the crystal a thoughtful look. What to do...? I supposed I could try destroying it. I unholstered my axe, prompting Skaetswys to move very far away. As funny as it would have been to try destroying the crystal in the middle of the encampment, I chose instead to use my axe as a shovel and work it under the crystal. Once I had the crystal balanced on the flat of my blade, I strolled out of Camp Overlook as casually as possible, ignoring Skaetswys shouting for some backup and then the contingent of Maelstrom soldiers following cautiously at a safe distance.

I dropped the crystal on the ground near the Floating City of Nym. It sat unassumingly on bare dirt, looking like just another pretty crystal. “Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath, and concentrated. Bright blue aether slowly gathered on the edge of my blade. I hefted the axe and with the aid of gravity brought it down on the crystal.

I would've liked to say I held my ground after making contact, impressively staying on my feet after the dust cleared so that I could accept the applause of Maelstrom with heroic dignity. That was not what happened. The resulting explosion sent me tumbling head over heels into a ditch in the ground, so the first thing Skaetswys and company saw once the spots disappeared from their eyes was one of my feet sticking straight up in the air. My ears rang. I had to lipread when Skaetswys poked her head into my field of vision and said, “Not the brightest idea ye've 'ad, I reckon.”

“Motherfucking assholes and their shite-covered crystals,” I groused. “I'm going to kick 'em in the balls so hard they'll be pissing blood for the rest of their miserable lives.”

“That's the spirit,” she said. “We found yer axe, by the by. Didn't break, for a wonder. Up ye get!” She grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the ditch. We investigated the scene of the incident. To my surprise, my attempt had been successful. The crystal lay in several pieces amid the blackened grasses, its purple hue gone. I found it to be utterly devoid of aether and as soft as chalk. It crumbled to dust with just a little pressure and quickly integrated itself with the dirt beneath.

Now all I had left was to question some kobolds.

Kobolds were an honest sort, not given to skillful deceit and easily swayed by simple shows of force and ingenuity. Once you earned their friendship, it was relatively easy to keep to their good graces, provided you were honest yourself. All I needed to do was head to the entrance to O'Ghoromo and yell my head off until a kobold child, Ga Bu, skittered into view. “Ameme!” he squeaked. “You must come look—view, observe, survey! A shadow sought to summon Great Father Titan by convincing Zo Ga that you were a cheat, a liar, a fraud, but Go Ze and the rest refused to listen. Zo Ga brought the wrath of the mountain onto himself mining for crystals...!!”

“What?” I said, because Ga Bu talked a malm a minute on the best of days, never mind when he was excited. Ga Bu seized my hand and pulled me into O'Ghoromo, chattering nonstop.

He did not lead me far into the mountain. Just a few turns of the maze in, he tugged me to a room full of rubble, angry adult kobolds, and a truly pathetic and downtrodden Zo Ga sitting in the middle of it all. Even his whiskers drooped. I hadn't seen him so downcast since I'd slapped him around for trying to order his henchmen to kill me.

I had a basic idea of what happened from just glancing around. “Cave-in?” I asked Ga Bu.

“Yes! He mined for crystals without listening to the earth,” said Ga Bu. The rest of the kobolds squeaked and growled in their own language, cursing what had happened.

I nodded gravely. Not being able to hear the earth for whatever reason was one of the greatest sins in kobold society. It was enough to get a kobold cast out of O'Ghoromo, provided they didn't get themselves killed first by stupidly going into a tunnel set to collapse. “And the shadow who tried to get him to summon your Great Father?”

“Even you are not as deaf,” squeaked Gi Gu, Pickman of the 789th Order. I'd put him in charge of things, though the other pickmen tended to ignore him unless it was about negotiations with overdwellers. That was good enough for me and from all accounts both Limsan and kobold, things had been going fairly well and they were even starting to sort of like each other. Key words: sort of. Gi Gu had absolutely no spine or work ethic and Skaetswys had taken it upon herself to terrorize his order into some semblance of respectability. Now that was an uphill battle if I'd ever heard of one.

“So you're telling me the shadow got caught in the cave-in,” I said. Gi Gu pointed wordlessly at part of the pile of rubble. I borrowed a lantern and investigated. A pale hand poked out from some of the rocks. The owner had clearly been crushed, judging from the dark stains oozing through the cracks. “Someone grabbed a purple crystal,” I said as I peered at the hand. “Where did it come from?”

“Just here,” said Gi Gu. “By the hand.” His voice, already high by nature, jumped half an octave. “You said to tell you when someone tried to convince us—persuade us, coerce us, influence us—to summon Great Father Titan again. It only worked on Zo Ga. Zo Ga is a fool who became deaf to the earth the moment he listened to the shadow. What do we do now?”

“Throw him out,” suggested another kobold. The rest murmured in agreement and began eying Zo Ga like they wanted to find the nearest sulfur pit to serve as his final resting place.

I grimaced. The shadow had to be an Ascian. “I think Titan has made his opinion clear about such activities,” I said. “If he's deaf to the earth then do as you please with him. As for the shadow, spread word of what happened. If anyone wants to risk themselves for this nonsense, they deserve what they get.”

Something itched at my senses as I spoke. As the kobolds deemed my judgement sound and began cleaning up the mess, I twisted to look over my shoulder and up, close to the ceiling. A fleeting glimpse of a black robe with a glowing red mask...

_They're watching_ , Fray whispered.

_Good_ , I thought. _Let them see the end result of their constant meddling._

Ga Bu tugged on my sleeve, his tiny nose quivering. “Ga Bu is hungry,” he said, eyes full of winsome innocence. I wasn't fooled for a second, but pulled my pack out anyway to see what I had for him. The grubs I'd collected on my last visit to Horizon had fallen to the bottom, forcing me to delve deeper than I'd ever gone before. My fingers brushed something cold and spiky. Curious, I retrieved the grubs and let Ga Bu chow down while I got this new item out.

At first glance I could only say it was some sort of mechanical contraption. I wasn't mechanically inclined in the least, so the item was a mystery. So was the other metal bit I found near the bottom. That one wasn't like the first, being made of a sort of steel alloy painted black and red. It seemed to me to be the bottom part of a tiny shield. I put it by the first contraption and frowned.

“What's that?” asked Ga Bu.

“Don't know,” I said. “Any guesses?” I passed it over to him. He picked at it with his long, spindly fingers for a moment. The front plate fell off, revealing a hundred delicate clockwork gears that had been bent by some great force, as though the thing had been used to block a sword thrust.

Ga Bu had no idea what it was. He handed it back with a little shrug and resumed eating grubs. I popped the front plate back into place and got him to give me a spare pot to protect it. Whatever it was, I must have valued it to keep it in my pack when it was so obviously broken. Maybe I would ask Skaetswys...

~*~

I dreamt I was in a soft bed in a room filled with blue early morning sunlight. A fire warmed one side of me and a broad back the other. All I did in my dream was open my eyes and watch the back of the man next to me. He moved every now and then, turning the page of the book he was reading. I couldn't see his face and couldn't have said what color his hair was. I couldn't even tell what his skin color was, though he was only clad in a blanket. All I knew was that we were together, it was cozy, he was reading, and I was at peace.

_Beep-beep-beep!_

I shut my eyes. Opened them. I was still in a soft, warm bed, but it was before sunrise, no one was with me, and I was most decidedly not at peace.

_Beep-beep-beep!_

With a groan, I got up and dug through my pack until I found the forgotten linkpearl. “Oh sure, wake me up from a nice dream,” I grumbled. “Or was it a memory? Who cares. The point was that I was happy there.” I hooked the clasp to my ear and pressed the tiny button. “Hello?”

“Ameme!” said a familiar but fuzzy voice. “This is Alphinaud. My apologies, I know how early it is in Limsa. I wondered if you might accompany me on my meeting with the Elder Seedseer in Gridania. She would like to meet you and I feel as though the subject at hand will be of interest to you.”

...huh? I rubbed my eyes and squinted at the stars I could see from the window. “When?”

“Today. I've arranged for an airship ticket for you. It should cut down on travel time. What say you?”

I tried to remind myself that he was only sixteen and sixteen-year-olds shouldn't be punched in the face for calling me too early in the morning. We'd known each other for all of three days at this point so it was really, really hard to remember. “All right,” I said.

“Excellent! I shall see you at Nophica's Altar, then. The conjurer by Stillglade Fane will show you in when you arrive. You should be on time if you get on the next airship to Gridania in...oh...ten minutes or so. I will see you soon!”

My head dropped back onto the pillow. I rolled to the side to look at the spot my dream companion had been. All I saw was Midgardsormr nesting on the spare pillow. Ah, to be dreaming...

Wait a sec. Did he say _ten minutes?!_

“Punching children is bad,” I chanted under my breath as I hastily crawled into my armor and threw my things into my pack. “Punching children is bad, punching children is bad...but is it really so bad when they take it upon themselves to schedule things poorly for you?!”

Midgardsormr lifted his head. Whatever he thought about my rush, he kept them in his tiny lizard skull. I shoved him in my pack, too. He made himself at home on the hastily folded blanket and went back to sleep.

I barely made it to the airship landing in time, where a Maelstrom officer waited with my ticket in hand. “We could all do with some coffee,” he remarked, handing the slip of paper to me. I gave it to the ticketer and practically tripped to get on board. The other airship passengers, all sleepy-looking diplomats and guards, ignored me. It was too damn early for everyone.

There was one seat open. I took it and hooked my elbow over the railing as the airship rumbled and drifted away from its moorings. As we soared over the sea, dawn broke over La Noscea. It was a beautiful day. The sea turned to desert turned to forest. In the distance, I saw the mountains of Coerthas and thought of Haurchefant and Ishgard. What a sight the city must look from the air! I wondered what my friend was doing now. It had been some time since his last letter. Hopefully the situation in Coerthas hadn't turned so bad he couldn't write.

Speak of the devil! The moment I landed in Gridania and got off the airship, a moogle in a postman's cap came fluttering around the corner. “There!” it squeaked when it saw me, sounding relieved. “The fierce and beautiful Ameme, savior of the realm—or so the address says, kupo!” It dropped an envelope at my feet. “Can't chat now, so many letters to deliver, kupo!” it cried before whizzing away.

I scooped up the letter and tucked it into the front of my furs. Haurchefant was always coming up with new descriptions of me. Most were funny—he'd once described me as 'she of the incredible biceps', which had given the postmoogle the giggles—but this one was longer than usual and sounded almost earnest. I would have to read it later if I wanted to be on time to the altar. I ran to the aetheryte plaza and grabbed a ride to the conjuror's guild.

The familiar slight form of Alphinaud waited for me by the aetheryte shard. “Good morning, Ameme,” he said. “I do apologize for calling you in so early. This meeting was something of an emergency, you see. I believe it has something to do with the Ixal, so I thought you might want to listen in. The Elder Seedseer is also _very_ interested in meeting you, which is not something many can say of themselves.”

_Thou shalt not smack the tiny elezen boy_ , I told myself sternly. The timing was clearly not his fault. Possibly. Somehow stifling my urge to visit violence on his head, I followed him through a gap in the trees, down a long path, and to a shallow pool full of tree stumps. It was like a tiny meadow of heaven. Waiting on the central stump was a teenage girl and three sober-looking guards. The teen girl had horns.

_Oh, she's a Padjal_ , I thought. From what I could recall, Padjali were special Hyur born with horns who quit aging after childhood. Something something they were special something—I didn't know much and I didn't particularly care.

“Greetings, Elder Seedseer,” Alphinaud said, bowing. “I am Alphinaud Leveilleur, representing the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. With me is Ameme Ame, the adventurer who fought Titan and helped broker a proper trade deal between Limsa Lominsa and the kobolds.”

Was I...supposed to curtsy? I did nothing as the Elder Seedseer smiled at me. “Welcome to Gridania, my friends,” she said. “I am Kan-E-Senna and it is an honor to meet you, Ameme. We in Gridania have heard of your endeavors and wished to thank you. For the sake of Eorzea, I believe we Spoken must needs work with the beast tribes to attain peace.” She waved at a little floating green plant with eyes—some kind of fairy?—by her shoulder. “Much like Limsa Lominsa, we contend with two beast tribes: the sylphs and the Ixal. As you can see, we have achieved good relations with the sylphs, though their touched brethren may well summon their god Ramuh in times of stress. I fear the Ixal are far less peaceful.”

“Indeed,” said Alphinaud. “Is that not why you have called us here today to discuss?”

Kan-E-Senna nodded. “Not long before your arrival, I received confirmation from the Twin Adders: the Ixal have summoned Garuda. Unfortunately, there is no way to reach her location save by airship, and she has created a shield of wind-aspected aether that is beyond our ability to breach. We cannot get near.”

Alphinaud rubbed his chin while I frowned. Ugh, hadn't I done this all before? It was so frustrating not being able to remember anything. “What are your thoughts, Ameme?” Alphinaud asked.

How should I know? I was just a weapon...ah, that's right. I'd done something other than kill stuff. They thought I was _smart_. “Counter the wind somehow,” I said. “And you'd need a good airship regardless. Not the clunky one I just rode to get here.”

“Mayhap we can counter the wind-aspected aether with aether of another sort,” Alphinaud murmured. “As for the airship, only one comes to mind...”

Kan-E-Senna tilted her head. “To me as well, yet Master Garlond has not been seen since the Calamity.”

“Yes, and from what I learned with my preliminary investigation, the Enterprise was last seen headed north to Coerthas,” Alphinaud said. “The Ishgardians have long since closed their borders to all and have only become more insular. No doubt prying information from them will be extremely difficult.” He turned to me. “Ameme, pray return to the Waking Sands and let Minfilia know of this development. I shall head to Coerthas. Mayhap they will respond more warmly to me given my lineage.”

I almost laughed. One did not walk into Coerthas with an entitled attitude. Haurchefant was the friendliest one there and even _he_ would make you work for his approval if that was what you wanted. His letter sat heavy against my chest. “All right,” I said. “I'll see you in a week, unless you have another airship ticket for me...”

“No need,” said Kan-E-Senna. “When Alphinaud made it known you traveled on foot, I arranged to have your name added to the list of personages allowed to use the airships freely. I pray this goes some way in expressing our gratitude for all you have done so far.”

I stared at her, surprised. “I haven't done anything for Gridania,” I said.

“You have taken the most difficult step towards peace in Limsa Lominsa,” she replied. “When I look at you, I am reminded of the Warriors of Light, who fought so hard at the battle of Carteneau. I see the arrival of hope in a land benighted by suffering and strife. And do you not go now to help Gridania in her hour of need? Pray do not sell yourself short, Ameme. Though you ask for nothing in return, know that you have our support in this and all future endeavors.”

_Hear..._

My breath hitched in my throat. _Really?_ I asked her silently. _Was that just a speech or do you honestly think that?_

_Feel..._

Kan-E-Senna smiled at me. My face grew hot...my eyes stung...I covered my face with one hand and felt myself start to shake. “Thank you,” I said.

_Think._

Warm fingers gently touched my arm just below my pauldron. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

I could feel it. She was real. So too was the knowledge that she meant everything she said. I let my hand drop. “Kan-E-Senna,” I said, looking into her large green eyes. “Thank you.”

_I killed and killed and killed and the problems never died and I still lost everything, but thank you for being there for me from the beginning. I swear I won't break this time._

“You are most welcome,” she said.

I nodded in farewell and strode out of Nophica's Altar, leaving Alphinaud puzzled. There was a nice little alcove just outside the conjurer's guild. I took refuge in there and opened Haurchefant's letter.

_“My dear friend,_

_Correspondence with outsiders is now forbidden by the Holy See, as some individuals were found to be writing to known heretics. Count Edmont has petitioned for exceptions to be made for our various business contacts outside of Ishgard. I write this letter to you in the dead of night and plan to deliver it in person to the postmoogle in the city with strict instructions to avoid the Temple Knights. Mayhap it will be the last I write you for a time, though I shall not give up in my defense of our dealings with outsiders! Count Edmont cautions me to restrain myself for fear of others responding by asking that I be removed from my post. Nay, I replied. We must be vocal in our support and our defense! If we remain silent, fear shall win!_

_It is late—I write my thoughts freely. They often turn to you and your adventures. When shall I receive your latest written account of your exploits? I ask myself. They are a bright light in an otherwise darkening existence. The weather has cut off all but the most essential supplies from House Fortemps. The new inquisitor—Inquisitor Guillaime's replacement—is most fervent and thorough in his search for heretics among the front line ranks. House Haillenarte, of whom House Fortemps has always been a staunch ally, has been especially beleaguered of late, with increasing numbers of their members found with rosaries or connections to heretics. I sense a grave injustice being done, yet I have found my hands further tied and can do nothing but watch. The inquisitor intends to go through House Fortemps with a fine-toothed comb thanks to our extensive contact and employment of adventurers._

_Would that you were here, my friend. I say that not simply because I wish to hear your voice—I do—but because you would be able to move freely to aid those in need as I should be doing. Instead, I shall look to your example and strive to do what I can. If only working out a trade deal was all that was needed to quell the heretics!_

_Your friend,_

_Haurchefant”_

The letter crinkled where my fingers clutched too hard.

_Ah, no_ , I thought. Let's be careful and think this out even if most of my brain is screaming to go save them all. First, I needed to find Alphinaud. Then I needed to—

— _run in brandishing my axe, yelling war cries—_

—go to The Waking Sands. Then I would go to Coerthas with Alphinaud to see what was going on myself. Yes, that was an excellent plan, mostly because it involved running in brandishing my axe and yelling war cries. Now, where to find Alphinaud...? I glanced up and found him conveniently in front of me, studying me.

“Is aught amiss?” he asked. “You rushed out to read that letter...”

“It seems Ishgard has just gotten _much_ more hostile to outsiders,” I said. “I befriended one of the lords there some time ago and he has just written to me about it. You will need to be very careful when you're there. He's had to resort to secretly posting letters now. Correspondence with outsiders is forbidden.”

Alphinaud's lips thinned. “Hrm. That does not bode well. Who is your friend?”

I shrugged, not wanting to answer. “I'll head to the Waking Sands,” I said. “You should get a coat. It's cold enough in Coerthas that you might freeze walking between buildings.”

Before he could interrogate me, I practically ran to the airship landing. Limsa was the next flight, luckily for me. I took that, snagged the ferry to Vesper Bay, and sprinted to Waking Sands, intending to explain everything very quickly before heading north. Not for the first time did I curse their location. It had to be the least convenient place imaginable.

Quite a crowd was gathered outside the small building that housed the Scion headquarters when I arrived. “Excuse me, what's going on?” I asked someone on the edge of the crowd.

“Beats me! We heard a ruckus going on inside—sounded like a huge fight, but no one's come out at all,” the Lalafell man replied.

_Not now!_ I thought, shoving my way through. I opened the door and smelled blood. Lots of it. The upper entry level was clean. Downstairs was another story. I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and saw half a dozen bodies on the ground. The carpet squelched when I stepped on it.

I hadn't known the Scions very long, but seeing so many dead...I moved around the bodies, seeking familiar faces. Some I knew from the main gathering room. Others wore familiar armor—armor that should not have been here. Garleans! They were behind this! But where was Minfilia?

I heard voices up ahead. Instantly switching to sneak mode, I crept along the walls and peered around the corner, into the room where Minfilia usually sat.

A small platoon of Garlean soldiers stood in the doorway to the solar, led by someone in gleaming white and gold-gilded armor. Just past the bristling weapons and ridiculous armor, I saw a flash of pink and gold.

“Really,” a tinny female voice said, “do you honestly think it matters to me how many rats I kill? All that matters is that Lord van Baelsar would have you... _entertain_ him.” There was a small creak. I saw the massive horns of the white helmet move as the owner turned their head. “Speaking of rats, it seems another walked right into the trap.”

“No! Run!” Minfilia cried.

_Cover blown. Alas._

A Garlean soldier lunged around the corner, a wide grin on his face. I opened up a second grin in his throat and let him fall to the side, choking. I stepped into the open and charged. I took out half the group with three sweeping blows before they even considered stepping back.

“This one is not like the others, Tribunus!” one called.

The white armored woman pointed her arm at me, revealing a hidden gun. I ducked and brought my blade up to deflect the bullet back at her. It pinged off her armor and hit one of her soldiers in the leg. He went down with a curse.

“Well, well, well. This one is a bigger rat than the rest of the savages, I see,” said the white armored woman.

Hmm. Sociopathic. Well-protected. I should probably get rid of her. Aaaand then one of the soldiers put a blade to Minfilia's temple. Another grabbed the tiny pink receptionist, Tataru.

“ _Please_ ,” Minfilia said. “Take us if need be. Just don't harm anyone else further!”

The white armored woman tsked. “You really think I'd let this one go after she killed half my men in a few seconds?”

If she thought she would just get her way without a fight, she was in for a surprise. I barreled through them and got the tip of my blade into the throat of the one holding Tataru. He dropped her. The white armored woman tried to shoot me again, but I knocked her arm aside and hooked my axe around the sword by Minfilia's temple. One good jerk saw that soldier disarmed. A follow-up swipe sent him tumbling. Since the white armored woman was conveniently _right there_ , I slammed my axe into her gun arm, breaking the barrel free and rendering it useless.

“Damn!” snarled the white armored woman, staggering back. “Retreat! Now!” She pulled out a proper gun and fired at me, forcing me away from Minfilia and Tataru. I could not get close enough to steal them back, even as a big portal opened and the Garleans threw their hostages in. I realized too late that the tiny thaumaturge Papalymo was also a hostage. A burly soldier carried his unconscious form through the portal after the other two. The white armored lady kept up her barrage until her men were gone. Then she leapt through the portal.

I tried to follow, I really did, but it slammed shut milliseconds after she'd gone through and I slammed into the desk instead. My axe blade fell onto the desk and left a massive gouge in the center.

Whoops. As if the day had not been shitty enough. Resigned to frustration and anger, I turned to find the soldier hit by the ricochet bullet on the ground, brandishing his lance at me. “S-stay back, savage!” he cried.

I grimaced and kicked him in the head, knocking him out. There was no point in talking to people like that.

Someone groaned nearby. One of the Lalafell guards was still alive. I knelt next to him to see what I could do. “T-they want her f-for the Echo,” he whispered when I leaned close. “P-please...”

I tried to stem the bleeding, but they had run him through and shot him. There was nothing to be done. I sat by his side and held his hand as he bled out. When he was gone, I tied up the Garlean soldier and went around checking for survivors. The Garleans had been thorough. Everyone was very, very dead. I stood amid the corpses, at a loss. “They weren't here, were they, Midgardsormr?” I whispered. “The one whose death broke me...”

He didn't respond. That was okay. I knew in my heart the answer was 'no'. I had not loved any of the people here. This would not destroy me.

I walked out of the building, forgetting I was covered in blood. The crowd outside reacted with shock. “What happened?” a Roegadyn man asked, horrified.

“They're all dead,” I said. “Inside...the Scions...there was an attack...”

“Thal's balls,” the man said. “The Scions are—listen, adventurer. You must get to safety. What if the attackers come back?”

I blinked at him. “Where is safe?” I asked. “They just teleported in.”

He seized my shoulders. “Lass, I know it's a shock,” he said. “Listen to me. You must get to safety.” He gave me a slight shake. “Do you understand? You're in shock. You _must_ get somewhere safe.”

I wasn't that bad off! I shook my head. “What about everyone in Vesper Bay?”

“Doesn't matter. You're a Scion, aren't you? You're all that's left. Go!”

_Not true_ , I thought. _Alphinaud was..._

Alphinaud. He didn't know. I turned and ran out of Vesper Bay, one finger firmly pressed to my linkpearl. After an eternity, Alphinaud answered. “Yes?”

“Do not return to Waking Sands under any circumstances,” I said, and explained what had happened.

He was shocked speechless for once. When he finally spoke, it was to swear and ask questions. “By the Twelve! They're all...confound it all! How did the Imperials get in?!”

“Don't know. I'm heading to—”

“No, no, do not tell me,” he said. “Linkshells may be wiretapped. I shall continue my research. We can find each other later. Stay safe, Ameme.”

Little shit. He was right. I took my finger off the linkpearl and teleported to the only place I could think of that might shelter a lone survivor of a massacre: the church at Camp Drybone.

It was hot, dusty, and depressingly full of dead people, just as before. Not much of a change in my surroundings, in other words. I walked up the ramp leading out of the camp and headed to the church.

Thankfully there weren't any bodies sitting out waiting to be buried. I roamed among the graves for some time, Haurchefant's letter burning against my breast, until I felt ready to talk to someone. I had to help him somehow, but with this...

I missed him and his optimism. I missed the bustle of Waking Sands. I missed the squeaks and chitters of happy kobold children frolicking by my feet during idle moments in the mines. I missed Midgardsormr getting bored and belching purple fireballs from my shoulder. I missed normal, or what had passed for normal before.

“Is aught amiss, my child?” said the old man standing by the altar inside the church. “Come sit.” He glanced at my blood-covered boots. “Is that—come, come, tell me what has happened.” He grabbed my hand and led me to a pew. I sat and explained. He held my hand until he'd heard all of it and then had a cloaked man fetch wet rags to clean my boots. For some reason they both insisted I do nothing while they cleaned.

The cloaked man looked up at me and I realized it was Marques, the odd gun-toting man from High Bridge. “Have you any spare clothing? I can wash what you're wearing,” he said in a soft voice. The old man left us to do something in another room.

“I'll wash it myself,” I said. “It's fine.”

“No, no...you shouldn't have to,” he said.

“Well, I don't have any spare clothing so it's not happening anyway,” I snapped. Marques tilted his head back to study me with concern. My nails bit into the palms of my hands. “Sorry,” I muttered, glancing away. His gaze scalded and shamed me, though his eyes held no judgment.

“No need to apologize. You've been through hell, and not for the first time, I'd wager. It was you, wasn't it, who defeated Titan?” I nodded. “I wondered. Sorry for—well, how suspicious I was.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “It happens.”

“Aye, I'm sure it does. I'm apologizing anyway. I was out of sorts at the time. Recall you when I said I had amnesia?”

No, I thought. Why would I bother remembering—pah. “What about it?”

“Well, when I picked up a gun in that battle, I abruptly became rather less amnesiac...”

Fascinating.

“...if not for that, I might have looked at you more closely and noticed your conviction.”

I eyed him. “Okay. And yet here you still are. If you remember who you are, then why?”

Marques looked embarrassed. “I don't remember _quite_ everything,” he admitted. “Been trying to figure out what to do next, in fact. Enough about me, though. You're in quite a pickle yourself.”

The church had one very nice stained glass window that contrived to be cleaner than the rest of the building. I pondered it in silence.

“Don't think your attackers would be looking for you, do you?” Marques wondered.

“Probably.” I was struck by an idea. “Can you help me with something?”

“I suppose,” said Marques cautiously. “What do you need?”

I gestured to myself. “I need a disguise. Preferably one that makes me look like a normal adventurer, not some crazy axe-slinging skyraider. I _might_ have tried to massacre the unit of Imperial soldiers raiding the headquarters and had some escape. Do you know where I might find some old armor?”

I couldn't tell if the look he gave me meant he was afraid of me or respected me. “...I'll look around,” he said. “Stay here.”

There wasn't exactly anything else to do, but I didn't want to stay still. I roamed around the congregation instead, being nosy. A boy in the corner played with a little music box he told me had been fixed by Marques. I thought that was pretty cool. Gunslinger and mechanic, what a useful combination.

Marques dug up some really old chainmail for me. Judging from the dirt, he may have literally dug it up. But no, he said it was donated to the church by a family. _More like they didn't want it back_ , I thought. It was not in good shape. I carefully and thoroughly glamoured my armor. Soon, I was a typical scruffy-looking adventurer in scrounged armor, in need of a bath and decent food.

“You need a helm,” Marques said. “You can dress up all you want, but your face is too distinctive.” He fetched another rag and made me wipe off the war paint. This was not enough. “It's those eyes,” he grumbled. “The color's unusual and the way you look at people...” He shook his head. “Sorry. I'm just talking to myself. Let me look for a helm. We need to hide your eyes as best we can.”

“I got this,” I said, and adopted a slightly glazed, goofy expression. “Hey there!” I said brightly, drawling a bit. “I'm just a regular bone-headed adventurer seeking fame and fortune! Can I carry crates for you? Maybe kill five ground squirrels for no reason?”

Marques stared at me. “I think you're too honest for that,” he said. “The idiotic expression helps, but...no. I'll be back.”

I sulked until he returned with a selection of three tin cans that might've been helmets at one point in their lives. None fit. Marques, in a gesture that must have caused him a great deal of trepidation, volunteered to go to Camp Drybone to find me some make-up. It took him well over a bell, and when he returned, he had three colored sticks and some spare rouge someone had clearly meant to throw away.

“Go the full malm or not at all, I guess,” I said once he'd found a relatively shiny mug to use as a mirror. I thickened my eyebrows, made my already gaunt features sharper and, with some artistry and a lot of carefully applied dark brown powder, managed to get a little two o'clock shadow going. It didn't take much to flatten my chest to match.

“There,” Marques said, satisfied. “You seem a young lad now. Let Father Iliud have a look. I'll tell him a young man has come to see him.”

I kept my gaze downcast until the older priest came to investigate. “How can I help you, young man...?” Father Iliud asked. I looked at him and he started backwards. “You...Ameme?”

Marques sighed. “It worked for all of five seconds,” he said.

Father Iliud thought that was hilarious. “You two! Indeed, 'twas convincing until our gazes met,” he said, laughing. “You must do something about your eyes. Where is the—ah, here it is. Pray hold still.” He took one of the make-up sticks and messed with my lower lids. “There! See now, Marques, that is how you change someone's entire personality. The beard shadow is a bit much.” He wiped at my jaw and stepped back. “A young man from the streets, I should think,” he murmured. “That fits her frame better.”

“You disguise people often?” I asked.

“Oh, plenty enough, I suppose. One does a great many unusual things when an ally of the Scions.” He gave me a kind smile. “Disguising yourself is an excellent idea.”

“Oh, you're an ally,” I said. “I got lucky, then. I just came here because there was a church. I think I need to go to Coerthas now, though.” My gaze wandered around the room.

“Pray rest for a while before setting out again,” said Father Iliud. “You are still in shock.”

“No, no, I have to find an airship that crashed before the Calamity,” I said. “Then I need to find someone who can pilot it so we can fly it into a wind-aspected aetherstorm to fight a primal.” I pondered Marques. He didn't meet my gaze.

“You—a primal?!” Father Iliud's eyebrows rose. “Ah! You must be the 'Bringer of Light' everyone speaks of these days, the one who defeated Titan.”

Marques murmured, “Mayhap Ul'dah could furnish you with a pilot...?”

“I think it's a special ship,” I said. “Hard to fly, but very maneuverable.” I could just about recall an airship with a very unusual set of rigging. “I think it needs an engineer of some sort.”

“Ah, you must speak of The Enterprise,” said Father Iliud. “A legendary airship to be certain, piloted by none other than Master Cid nan Garlond himself. Alas, both ship and pilot disappeared after the Calamity—though you say you needed to go to Coerthas? Do you perchance know where it landed?”

“Alphinaud thought he did,” I said. “I have friends in Coerthas that might be able to help me track it down.”

Father Iliud hummed under his breath. “The Ishgardians have quite a powerful military force and I imagine they might seize any errant ships they see sailing through their airspace. Let me think a moment...yes, I believe I shall find a way to contact good Master Leveilleur. You, meanwhile, shall rest here until I return with tidings.”

He probably meant to sound commanding, but I hardly took notice of his tone. The word 'rest' instantly called to mind hours and hours of incredible boredom. Instantly concerned that I was about to be forced to sit in a pew all day listening to sermons about gods I didn't care for, I asked, “Is there anything you need help with around here?”

“There is nothing here that cannot be taken care of by others,” Father Iliud said kindly, and went away to do whatever he planned to do to contact Alphinaud.

This was like my worst nightmare. A strange place full of people I didn't know and somehow nothing at all to do to get my mind off things? What the hell was I supposed to do now? Stare into space? Remember all the dead—no, there definitely had to be something I could do.

“You really don't like being idle, do you,” said Marques. I gave him a sharp look. “Oh, I don't mean anything by the observation. It's just interesting. I suppose everyone copes in their own ways.” He pointed to the door. “If you want, you can see if anyone outside needs help. It's all about the dead bodies, though.”

I shifted, thinking that I was willing to do pretty much anything. A thought stopped me: _I'm tired of seeing dead people._

“No, thanks,” I said instead.

“Had a feeling you'd say that,” he said. “Want to talk about what happened?”

“Nah,” I said. “So...what are you going to do now that you've remembered everything?”

“Not everything, like I said. As for next steps...well. You mentioned that airship. I, er...happen to be something of an engineer.”

I stared at him.

“Er. That is...”

The anticipation was killing me here.

“I—ahem. Father Iliud mentioned Cid nan Garlond. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Engineer who flew the Enterprise,” I said. “Did you crash it and wake up amnesiac in Coerthas?”

Marques nodded. “Yes, I—wait, dammit! Oh, fine. Go ahead and take the wind from my sails.” He mock-scowled at me and finally took his hood down. Despite the white hair, his face was unlined and his eyes bright.

“We have something in common,” I said. “I too woke up amnesiac in Coerthas. Don't think I was flying an airship at the time, though.”

“I should hope not,” he said. “That's a coincidence, I'll admit. You'll have to tell me your story later. You need the Enterprise, is that right? For a primal?” His brow furrowed. “What, pray tell, did you plan to do with my ship?”

“Mount cannons on it and fire ice-aspected crystals into the wind barrier Garuda's got up around her home base,” I said. “The cannon bit is a work in progress, admittedly.”

Marques treated me to a rather long silence. “I don't know if I should be impressed or horrified by the way your mind works,” he said. “We could probably mount a very large, very pure, very strongly aspected crystal to the Enterprise and penetrate the barrier that way. Cannons...no. And I'll tell you why, too.” He launched into what promised to be a very lengthy lecture about inertia, physics, and how a light-bodied ship like the Enterprise would not be able to handle the recoil from any sort of cannon. As he was explaining that even if we mounted cannons on wheels, the cannon would propel itself through the other side of the ship and smash the railing to bits, Father Iliud came back.

“My hero,” I said loudly, interrupting Marques. “Please save me from him. He's making my brain dribble out my ears with science.”

Father Iliud laughed as Marques ducked his head. “That's our Marques for you,” Father Iliud said warmly. “Quiet most days, but the moment you get him on the topic of magitek, he'll talk your ear off about it. I imagine it was a good distraction, hmm?”

No. It was just another form of suffering, really. I said, “Did you manage to contact Alphinaud?”

“Yes, I did. He's on his way here as we speak.” Father Iliud held out a small paper-wrapped parcel. “I took the liberty of preparing some food for you. From the sound of it, he wants to set off immediately for Coerthas.”

I took the parcel. The bottom was warm and I got a whiff of something deliciously grilled. “I can start for Coerthas. No need for him to come here.”

“Hmm. Well...” Father Iliud hesitated.

Marques cleared his throat. “It's for the best,” he said. “I think I need to go with you. Erm. Father Iliud, I apologize. I should have told you earlier. I've remembered who I am and...well...”

Father Iliud's face brightened. “Have you at last? Wonderful! I've been hoping for so long that you would remember on your own. Why, until this very moment, I feared I would have to inform you myself.”

Marques boggled. “You—you knew?”

Father Iliud nodded. “Yes. I wanted to tell you, but...well, I think your mind refused to accept the truth until recently. I tried three years ago, but you became so agitated and had so many awful night terrors that I thought it best to let you recall in your own time. You not only forgot what I said but also lost that entire week.” He clasped his wrinkled old hands in front of himself and said, “You've been through much, my child...my son. You needed a place to heal.”

Marques looked like he was about to get emotional. “Father...thank you,” he said in a choked up voice. “Thank you.” They stood and stared at each other, full of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” I said. “Just hug each other and be done with it.”

They embraced, though only after they had both shot me smiles drawn taught with awkward humor at their behavior.

Once finished with this display, Marques—or rather Cid turned to me and said, “Ameme. Please allow me, Cid nan Garlond, to accompany you to retrieve my ship so we can fight this primal of yours.”

“Sure,” I said. “By the way, you might want a heavier cloak. It's cold up there.”

~*~

If I had a gil for every time snow got stuck in my cowl, I would be a far sight richer than I currently was. The wind bit deep. Visibility was down to ten yalms, leaving us to rely on my compass to get us to where we were going. Only my past experience in the region kept us on track.

“If we don't get there soon, we'll be in trouble,” Cid called over the wind. He had a good grip on Alphinaud, not because the kid was in danger of being blown away but because he was nearly too cold to move. The meager body heat from Cid kept him going.

“It's just up ahead,” I replied with somewhat more confidence than I had. I slammed into a pole. “Yeowch!”

“F-felt that, did you,” Cid said. “What is it? A lamp?”

I backed away, rubbing my face even though it was completely numb at this point. The tall iron pole lantern loomed over me, unlit. No one had gotten out there to refill the oil in the snowstorm. “Oh good,” I said. “We're about fifty yalms from our destination, then. Potentially we're also on a road, but no guarantees on that one.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Cid muttered. “Come on, Alphinaud. We're almost there.”

“I-I-I h-h-h-heard,” said Alphinaud. “T-th-th-this weath-th-ther is mos-s-s—”

“Less stuttering, m-more walking,” commanded Cid, towing him along.

To our relief, we soon heard someone saying, “Fury take this weather! Who goes there?” Grim stone walls materialized out of seemingly nowhere, along with a gate guard partially plastered with snow. He was thoroughly disgusted by us. “Adventurers! If you're here for employment, look elsewhere! The Holy See has forbidden the use of outsiders in our outposts.”

“W-w-w-w—”

“Give it a rest, Alphinaud,” Cid said. To the guard, he said, “We're not adventurers. We're from the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and we're trying to track down an airship.”

The guard waved us inside with a minimum of arguing and directed us to an office, where we found a red-haired Elezen officer with a red collar and trimmings writing a long missive at the table. I knew him as Ser Portelaine de Durendaire. He was remarkably friendly towards other houses.

“Scions of the Seventh Dawn? We received word yesterday that they were massacred by Imperials,” said Portelaine when Cid introduced us. “Lord Haurchefant was devastated—mentioned an adventurer friend was a member. Don't suppose that one managed to escape the slaughter?”

We glanced at each other. I gave a slight shake of my head. “We're the only survivors as far as we know,” Cid said.

Portelaine rubbed his trim beard and gave us all a once-over, me especially. “Hmm. Hm-hm-hmm. Well, the individual in question was a young woman, but the three of you...are not women, though two of the three are remarkably feminine. Yes, I understand your situation. You may want to take yourselves north to Camp Dragonhead to inform Lord Haurchefant. Mayhap he can stop going on about needing to attend the services.”

“ _Fe-fe-feminine?_ ” Alphinaud asked, his male ego pricked. Given that he had been wrapped in a massive fleece blanket and only had his frost-nipped face poking out, it was difficult to take him seriously.

“Hush, boy, I can see well enough you're not female,” said Portelaine. “Just stay in that blanket 'til you get feeling back in your limbs.”

“This Lord Haurchefant—quite attached to his friend, is he?” Cid said. “Did he happen to mention a name?”

“Didn't need to. I've met her. Hard worker, that one, and far more than just a pretty face. Ameme Ame, if you happen to know her. It wouldn't surprise me to hear she'd escaped alive, to be quite honest.”

“Am-am-ameme i-is—”

“For Halone's sake,” Portelaine said. “Just be quiet, we can't understand a damn thing you say.”

Cid turned to me with a glint in his eye. “Know her, Albrect?” I nodded. “She make it?” I shrugged. “Ol' Albrect here isn't one for talking,” Cid said to Portelaine. “He's a regular at the Waking Sands—good lad if you don't mind playing pantomime and asking yes or no questions. He's the one who found...” He cleared his throat. “Ahem. He found the aftermath. Tracked us down since he knew we were out and about at the time.”

“Ah, and that's how you made it. I presume others might be able to say the same?”

I nodded.

“Huh. Well, I hope the girl made it. He'll be inconsolable otherwise. Why don't you two go meet him? The lad can stay here. 'Tis clear he won't make it far past the locks in the storm. Oh, and fair warning: this blasted weather has trapped the new inquisitor at Dragonhead. Don't cross him if you know what's good for you.”

Cid frowned. “This inquisitor...not the friendly sort, sounds like.”

“He's friendly, all right. Just not to outsiders.”

Alphinaud leapt to his feet. “I-I-I will n-not be kept here like a-a-a child!” he said. “I will be f-f-f-fine in a bell or so.”

Cid harrumphed. “Mayhap 'tis better to stick together,” he said. “Let's warm up in here for a bit before we head north.”

Portelaine merely shrugged and left us to it. Once Alphinaud had stopped stuttering, we wrapped ourselves up as tightly as possible and started out.

The blizzard had lightened somewhat, for a mercy, but it was still in the negatives. Cid and I walked with Alphinaud squashed between us for warmth, making stops at every lock to thaw out before continuing on. The worst part was the stretch between the last lock and the gates of Camp Dragonhead itself. I had to kill a feral croc along the way. It was difficult to feign being an average marauder, but Cid happily applauded my mediocrity so I supposed I did fine.

The mood inside Camp Dragonhead was sober. In fact, I would have gone so far as to say everyone within the walls was afraid. The gate guards, quite used to ragtag adventurers showing up, told us where to find Haurchefant's desk and dutifully warned us that we were no longer very welcome. If they recognized me, they gave no sign. We entered the strategy room.

“By the Fury,” said Yaelle when she saw us. “The three of you were out in this godsforsaken blizzard? Utter madness! Come by the hearth, you fools. Sad to say, we no longer employ adventurers, so I'm afraid you must leave once you've warmed up a bit...”

Cid, very patiently, explained that we were Scions and what had happened.

Yaelle's eyes widened. “Then—oh!” She glanced toward a tall blond Elezen man sitting at the strategy table. He paid us no attention, busy writing some kind of report. His robes were the familiar blue and white of an inquisitor. Yaelle came close to us to murmur, “You should go to the intercessory, then.” She peered at our faces—at my face. It took her a moment to see through the disguise. She covered her mouth to hide her smile. “Clever,” she whispered. “Stay like that, my friend—you remember where the intercessory is, I trust? Go!”

Wary now, I took the other two outside and around to the door leading to the private room used for meetings by important people. The guard there was rightly suspicious. “I cannot let anyone in just now, much less outsiders,” he said.

“We are the surviving Scions of the Seventh Dawn, ser,” Cid said. “Pray ask your lord if he wishes to see us first before you turn us away.”

The guard was reluctant about it. After much hemming and hawing, he went inside. Approximately five seconds later, the door was yanked open by a very familiar Elezen man. “Come in!” he said. “You'll catch your death out there.” There was a brief tangle as Haurchefant tried to either herd us inside or drag us through the hall to the room, while we tried to get into the warmth without squashing Alphinaud, while the guard tried to hold the door open for us politely without tripping anyone. It was a bit of a mess, but we survived. Haurchefant nearly picked Alphinaud up in his rush to put the kid by the hearth at the far end of the intercessory.

I'd never been in the intercessory before. It was surprisingly cozy for a formal meeting room, with a bar in the back and the books kept neatly behind some screens. A large table took up most of the floor space. I wandered over to the cabinet full of jars of fruit preserves and other condiments. Peach jam sounded pretty good right about now...

“Pray tell me if I heard correctly,” said Haurchefant, dumping a fleece blanket on Alphinaud's head. “You are the surviving Scions? Just the three?”

Alphinaud tried to look authoritative while covered in blankets. “In-indeed, Lord Haurchef-f-fant,” he said. “We c-c-c-cannot rightly say—”

“Forgive my interruption,” Haurchefant said, “but it is quite difficult to make sense of words spoken from between teeth that chatter so much. Sit, sit, all of you.” He beckoned to Cid and me. I hung back uncertainly. He looked like an absolute wreck, with big shadows under his eyes and a visible slump in his shoulders. The others wouldn't have noticed given that they had never met him before, but the change in him to me was frightening.

“I won't hold you in suspense,” Cid started to say.

“No—I won't hear of it until you've all warmed up,” Haurchefant said firmly. “ _Including_ your friend in the back.”

Cid sighed. “You heard the man,” he said to me.

The door opened as I moved to take my hood down. The inquisitor breezed in, book in hand. Yaelle crept in apologetically after him. “Lord Haurchefant,” said the inquisitor in a dreadfully snotty voice. “What is the meaning of this? Inviting unbelievers into the intercessory!”

Haurchefant twitched and I knew at once the cause of his exhaustion. “These are _friends_ , Inquisitor Deveroix,” he said firmly. “Unbelievers or no—”

“Ahh, another mark against you this soon? Really, my lord,” said Deveroix. “At this rate I may have to look into formal charges.” He eyed us. “Hmph. You there, take off your hood. Unless you've something to hide?”

“I'll not have you abuse guests of House Fortemps,” Haurchefant said, coming to stand between me and Deveroix. “They are the remainder of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. To treat them as you have done all others not of Ishgardian birth is intolerable!”

Deveroix paused. “Remainder? Hm. What proof have they given you that they are indeed Scions? For all you know, you have invited heretics masquerading as Scions into your home!”

Alphinaud threw his blanket aside. “I am Alphinaud Leveilleur, and I will h-have you know I am no heretic!” he said, quite angrily. “You have come in here to s-speculate and make accusations based on grounds so flimsy even the Garleans would find it suspect!”

Deveroix was cooler than the storm outside. “Oh? You're a young boy, I see...Come here, child, and let's have a look at you.”

“I am no child, ser,” Alphinaud replied curtly. “As for my companions, they are Cid nan Garlond and Albrect Durher.”

Deveroix laughed. “You expect me to believe the famously missing Cid Garlond has just walked into the intercessory of Camp Dragonhead?” He shot Cid a shrewd look. “Hm. He does look the part. As for the third, the name rings no bells. He appears to be the type to creep about with his face hidden, hmm?”

Now was the test of truth. I took my hood down and let Deveroix study me from relatively close.

“Hmph!” said Deveroix. “An unknown adventurer. How odd. Mightn't you have made up an equally famous personality for him to impersonate?”

“Enough, Inquisitor Deveroix,” Haurchefant said, his voice steely. “Inquisitors may have great power, but you certainly do not have enough to meddle in this particular affair. Pray show yourself out. _I_ shall determine whether or not they are who they say they are. Rest assured I will have them provide irrefutable evidence of their identities before promising anything.”

The way they glared at each other told me that they really, really did not get along. Finally, Deveroix relented. “Pray show me this proof once you have it, else I shall call for their removal most stridently,” he said, and strolled out like he owned the place. Yaelle escorted him, face pale.

There was a ringing silence when he was gone. Haurchefant dropped into the nearest chair and covered his face.

“I see what Ser Portelaine meant,” Cid said. “Not at all friendly, is he? Or nice.”

Haurchefant made a noise that tugged at my heartstrings hard. I went over to find him struggling to hold back tears behind his hand.

“Lord Haurchefant, what is the matter?” Alphinaud asked, concerned.

“Oh, nothing—save that I am truly heartbroken,” said Haurchefant, turning his head away from me. “Call it madness...but I had hoped your companion Albrect was someone else...pray give me a moment. I...I must try to collect my thoughts...”

“Gods _damn_ that inquisitor,” Cid muttered. “Lord Haurchefant, before you give yourself over to grieving, take another look at our friend here.”

Haurchefant slowly dropped his hand and blinked furiously before looking at me. He stared. Rubbed his eyes. Stared more.

I expected him to brighten and smile, maybe cry with happiness or something. Instead, he leapt to his feet and clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the strangled shout. “Fury take me!” he said, voice low and rippling with emotion. “You—you...!”

Cid went over to listen at the door in case someone was eavesdropping. Alphinaud said, “Albrect is dumb, I'm afraid...” He choked on whatever he meant to say next.

Haurchefant, shaking with restrained emotion, moved his chair out of the way. Then he threw his arms around my shoulders in a frantic embrace bordering on passionate.

When his arms surrounded me, I honestly thought I was going to shove him away while screaming that it was wrong. Then the warmth of his body hit me, ruthlessly squashing any and all protest. It wasn't familiar, but it was _right_.

_Everything_ about him was right and for one awful second I understood how I had broken. I snuggled against him, feeling warm for the first time since returning to Coerthas. He smelled of chocobo and wine and himself—

“Ahem,” said Cid. “Sorry to interrupt, but there _are_ others in the room with you two. Not to worry: our friend has chosen to depart, no doubt satisfied that Lord Haurchefant is _thoroughly_ heartbroken. Alphinaud, don't gawp. It's rude.”

Alphinaud spluttered, his entire face red. “B-b—Cid! I was not...!”

Haurchefant recalled himself and practically jumped to get away, leaving me standing awkwardly and already missing him. “I swear to you, 'twas not mine intention to do that,” he said. “I—that was overly forward—”

“...'sfine,” I said, not sure how I felt about the whole thing. “There are a lot of things wrong here. What happened?”

“Suffice to say the Holy See has found a truly zealous inquisitor among their ranks,” he said. “House Fortemps' stance on employing outsiders earned me his ire nigh instantaneously.” He sat with a heavy sigh. “It began with Goobbue defending a member of House Haillenarte from what she saw as a specious accusation of heresy. That did not end well, I'm afraid. Soluvrain hardly got her to the Shroud in time to avoid the Temple Knights. The other adventurers, sensing trouble, left quietly in the night. Most should be in Revenant's Toll, waiting out the storm.”

That meant Camp Dragonhead was now severely undermanned. “You were suspicious of all these accusations in one of your letters to me,” I said. “Is it still that way?”

“Indeed. I've no proof and cannot say for certain as I do not know well the people who were accused previously, but my men have overheard the inquisitor speaking to his escort about a 'significant body of evidence against a very important member'. I fear he means to accuse Lord Francel next. That man would never dream of betraying Ishgard!” Haurchefant clenched his fists, frustrated. “I cannot move freely with the Holy See's embargo, as well as their warnings to us regarding interference. If I had but proof...!”

“I'll find it,” I said. “This inquisitor—we're sure he's not another heretic?”

“It relieves me to hear you say that,” he said, the shadows around his eyes lightening. “Yes, I am certain. He was escorted here directly by the second in command herself, his paperwork is in order, and he has passed both my and Lord Drillemont's inspections.”

I nodded. “Sounds like he's got an agenda,” I said. “All right. I'll see about finding some evidence.”

“Not so fast,” said Cid. “We do still have to 'prove' we're Scions, you know.”

Alphinaud produced a slip of paper. “Fortunately, I make a habit of carrying around personal documentation,” he said. “This should serve as adequate proof.”

Haurchefant took the paper and scanned it. I snuck a peek. It was Alphinaud's official airship ticket, attesting to his identity and purpose for flying. Cid gestured helplessly. “I've nothing of the sort,” he said.

“Just make a neat thing-gummy that attests to your incredible engineering abilities,” I suggested.

“An excellent idea,” Haurchefant said. “Mayhap a more efficient alembic of some sort, or a heater for the infirmary. Our chirurgeons are always on the lookout for innovative ideas.” He glanced at me.

“I'm a nobody, I don't need proof,” I said.

He smiled. “You will ever be a somebody to me,” he said. “But I shall be hard-pressed to appear heartbroken now I know you are safe and sound!”

“I told Ser Portelaine that others may yet have survived,” Cid said. “I would tell you the same, I should think. That ought to explain your sudden shift in attitude.”

“Ah yes, for hope springs ever eternal,” he said. “My friends, words cannot express how heartened I am to have you here.”

Alphinaud cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed. I'm afraid we are not only here to help you, my lord. We seek an airship last seen heading north to this region. Mayhap you've heard of The Enterprise? We need it to reach Garuda—that is, the primal summoned by the Ixali—but at the moment all we know is that it was last seen heading towards Coerthas just before the Calamity.”

“Ahh, yes, The Enterprise. I shall make inquiries on your behalf,” Haurchefant said. “Unfortunately what progress I can make will be limited until this matter is cleared up. I do apologize for involving you in Ishgardian affairs. 'Twas never mine intent.”

“No need to apologize, Lord Haurchefant,” said Alphinaud. “Any friend of Ameme's is a friend of the Scions. Now I would suggest we go about our tasks with alacrity. 'Twould be suspicious should our friend _Albrect_ here linger more than necessary, loath as I am to separate the two of you.”

...I was going to smack that kid.

And don't tell me he didn't deserve it!

“I wouldn't dream of delaying you,” Haurchefant said. “Consider yourselves guests of House Fortemps! And Albrect—do forgive me my previous trespass. That was _highly_ inappropriate of me.”

Hah, and what did that make me? I was nothing _but_ inappropriate. “I enjoyed your trespass,” I said, flipping my hood back up. The bridge of his nose turned rosy, which made me grin a bit. “Let's get moving, Cid. I'll help you make stuff. Alphinaud?”

“I believe I shall set about questioning the locals about our inquisitorial friend,” Alphinaud said. “Let us reconvene somewhere private to share tidings at noon.”

Haurchefant coughed. “Ah...then Master Garlond, pray present to me your evidence afterwards. Pending that, Master Alphinaud shall be the only one of you allowed to have free rein of the outpost. If Inquisitor Deveroix gives you any trouble, come to me immediately.”

“10-4,” said Cid. “Come on, lad. We've some genius innovating to do.”

~*~

I had zero understanding of technology. Well, that was something I'd already figured out about myself, but working with Cid just proved it beyond a doubt. He kept talking about schematics and energy transference, all while handing me parts to hold as he worked. As we were sitting on the floor of the infirmary surrounded by curious chirurgeons, Deveroix, and Haurchefant, I could only watch with a confused expression and try to get the parts right when he asked for specific ones.

“...so with the proper grounding, the energy from the ice-aspected crystals can be looped back into the alembic rather than dissipate into the air to be reintegrated into Coerthas's aetherial atmosphere,” Cid finished, sounding triumphant. “Now you have a more efficient alembic which can chill concoctions without requiring this faulty and inefficient plug-in model. The crystals won't need to be replaced for at least ten years. When that happens, you just need to pop open the door here and swap them out, nice and easy.”

“Remarkable,” said the head chirurgeon. The other two chirurgeons clapped and whispered to each other. “If we should need to warm a concoction, would we change out the ice crystals for fire?”

“Yes. Theoretically you could do it with any crystal of any elemental aspect—6 gear please—but I wouldn't recommend that since the material the alembic itself is made of can only withstand cooling and heating. No, that's _not_ a 6 gear, boy. That's a 5. Can't you tell the difference by now? And where's the wrench I asked for three astral eras ago?! We haven't got all day!”

I hastily handed him the correct gear and the wrench. He'd slowly been getting snappier as he worked and it made me nervous. Fortunately he was almost done. I retreated as he fixed the trapdoor for the crystals. Everyone watched with bated breath as he flipped the switch. The alembic hummed to life, the inside of the pot glowing an eerie pale blue. A delicate film of frost formed on the rim. Cid, unsatisfied, fiddled with it until it started producing icy mist.

“This will save on ceruleum costs,” the head chirurgeon said, eyes shining. “You truly are Master Garlond. I'd heard rumors of your genius, but watching you in action...!”

“Wasn't much,” Cid said. “I think I'll make a space heater next. It's bloody freezing in here. Problem is, we'd have to find some fire sprites and I don't think Albrect here is up to the task. He barely survived the ice sprites.”

I coughed while the chirurgeons chuckled. Haurchefant said, “Well! I am impressed, Master Garlond. There is no need to build more unless you simply wish to keep yourself busy.”

Deveroix harrumphed. “And the three of you seek the Enterprise,” he said. “You may truly be Master Garlond and Scions of the Seventh Dawn, but do not expect the Holy See to render you any form of aid.” He stalked out of the infirmary. The door slammed shut behind him.

“...arse,” Cid muttered.

“I've never known such an unpleasant man,” said the head chirurgeon. “I shall be glad to see the back of him when this storm lifts.”

Evidently you were allowed to hold such opinions of inquisitors, for Haurchefant ignored the chirurgeon in favor of striking up a friendly conversation with Cid about useful things he had invented.

“Glad am I to see another adventurer,” said the chirurgeon's assistant to me. “I don't suppose you could run an errand for me...?”

_And so it goes_ , whispered a familiar voice.

_Shut up, Fray,_ I thought.

The assistant chirurgeon handed me a package. “Pray take this down to Skyfire Locks. I promised Lord Francel a parcel of potions but the weather has been so bad no one dares venture out to deliver anything.”

The blizzard had lightened noticeably after my relentless slaughtering spree for Cid's sake. I made it to Skyfire Locks in a mere twenty minutes instead of two hours and trudged up the long path to the top of the hill where Lord Francel lived.

Lord Francel, the baby-faced man who had met me my first day in Coerthas, did not recognize me with the make-up. “Oh, an adventurer,” he said when I entered. “I'm sorry, the Holy See has forbidden—what's this? From Camp Dragonhead?” He leapt to his feet and stretched his hands out eagerly. I dropped the package into the waiting fingers and watched as he tore it open. A letter sat on top of several bundles of tiny vials. Francel opened the letter and scanned it, glanced at me with a frown, and kept reading.

“Is aught amiss, my lord?” asked his attending knight.

“A letter from Lord Haurchefant,” said Francel. I blinked. Really? Interesting. “He says if I received this letter, he finally found someone trustworthy to deliver it. That would be this adventurer here...” He flipped the letter over, searching for more words. “He says he fears Inquisitor Deveroix may accuse me of heresy in the near future!”

“What? That's madness!” said the knight.

“I don't understand,” said Francel. “How does he know this? Why would the inquisitor do such a thing?” He ran to a chest of drawers and dug out some stationary supplies.

“My lord, some discretion is required,” said the knight. “Lord Haurchefant took great pains to hide this message to you for a reason.”

“Yes, yes—adventurer, I rely on you to see this safely to Lord Haurchefant's hands,” Francel said, giving me a distinctly puppy-like stare. I nodded. “Wonderful!” He sat at the table and wrote furiously. His handwriting was even prettier than Haurchefant's. I was mildly jealous of both of them now.

Francel pressed the finished reply into my hands once the ink had dried. “I'm counting on you!” he said.

Back at Camp Dragonhead, visibility had gone up to half a malm and they were taking serious advantage of it. Fortemps knights roved everywhere, shoveling snow from the road and lighting lamps and generally just stretching their legs. They were somewhat acquainted with me, so all I had to do was imitate Haurchefant's most distinctive gestures to get them to point me in his direction. I found him standing on the northern rampart with his chocobo Martellain. Call me crazy but it looked like they were both _basking_ in the thin winter sun. I crunched up to him.

“Ahh, my dear friend,” he said when he took notice of me. “What's this? A letter? I see Lord Francel received the package.” He shook the paper open and read silently.

“Kweh,” said Martellain, dropping his beak to stare into my face. I patted his feathery crest, making him whistle in delight.

“Blast the boy!” Haurchefant said, annoyed. “He means to prove himself loyal to Ishgard in any way possible—foolish, but not unexpected.”

“Oof!” I said when Martellain plopped his entire head on my shoulder and crooned. Haurchefant rescued me by dragging the reins sideways.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to ignore you,” he said. “Master Alphinaud returned earlier to inform me that the evidence against all of House Haillenarte has been Dravanian rosaries discovered in luggage. It follows that there is a stash of them hidden somewhere—likely at Whitebrim Front, where our good inquisitor usually resides. I have sent my knights out looking around Camp Dragonhead just in case, under the guise of clearing out the snow and finding meat for dinner.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “So he just 'finds' the rosaries and condemns them?”

“Essentially,” he said. “The first few accusations were without physical proof. Upon questioning, Deveroix mentioned something about enlightening confessions from another heretic. I suspect that may be where our previous imposter has gone...”

My eyes narrowed. “You think Deveroix got his hands on him?”

“Mayhap, though I see not how he could have survived those injuries for long. I wonder...” Haurchefant drummed his fingers on the wall. Then he whapped the stone with a fist and said, “Pah! It's useless to speculate. What we need is a direction of some sort. But where to begin...?”

“Good spots to hide injured heretics,” I suggested. “Surely there are plenty around.”

“Certainly. So many, in fact, that it may take a lifetime to find them all. Hrm. I may have to—ahh, not again!” He frowned in the direction of the door leading to one of the towers.

I strained to listen and after a moment picked up the sounds of some sort of argument. Much to my interest, Haurchefant's ears were actually _twitching_. Those long ears weren't just for show, it seemed. Maybe they were like rabbit ears. Yes, that was it. Elezens were really large talking bunnies...

Haurchefant walked quietly to the door and opened it. The two knights inside the tower froze in the midst of taking off their armor. “Really, now!” said Haurchefant. “Both of you know better than this. The issue of infidelity aside, do you not recall the particular individual to whom we currently play host? Such activities are _not_ advisable!”

_Uh oh_ , I thought. The knights, thoroughly chastised and embarrassed, put their clothes back on and, with more shame than a pirate caught being seasick, weathered Haurchefant's rather incensed lecture about fidelity, marriage, and keeping it in their pants. The lady knight in particular looked like she wanted to jump out the window.

I gave Martellain a parting pat and slipped away from the drama, more interested in figuring out if Haurchefant's suspicion held water than hearing his opinions on how married people ought to conduct themselves. There was no telling how seriously his knights would take the lecture, given that he wasn't even thirty yet and certainly wasn't married, as far as I knew. Either way, he was right: with Deveroix in the area, having illicit trysts in easily-accessed places was a terrible idea.

The blizzard cleared away by noon, but the temperature dropped as the day wore on. I searched doggedly for hiding places, first near the spot I had last seen Guillaime and then all around Whitebrim Front. I found nothing.

It was possible Haurchefant's suspicions were incorrect. They were, after all, merely suspicions. Still, I had a feeling he was onto something. I kept searching based solely on that feeling. Only as night fell did my persistence finally pay off. In one of the many deep crevasses that littered the central highlands, I discovered evidence of well-worn tracks down to the bottom. I followed the deepest track to a small depression too shallow to call a cave. It was there that I found Guillaime—or his imposter, to be more precise.

He was pretty dead, and also pretty frozen. Blue skin, hoarfrost all over him, the works. Trash around the body indicated someone had been treating his wounds and feeding him recently, but it seemed the blizzard and temperatures had finished him off at last. I poked around amid the old bandages, looking for anything useful I could take back.

The body moved. “Gah!” I yelped, jumping backwards. Guillaime's corpse shuddered. His eyes opened to reveal cloudy irises. What the—oh. Of course. “You're a zombie,” I said. “That's just perfect.”

Guillaime the Zombie chuckled like a rusty hinge. “I am no zombie,” he said. “Did you not realize when you saw me transform? I am beyond mortal now.”

“Dragons don't do _that_ ,” I said. “What'd you do, make a deal with a voidsent or something?”

Zombie or not, he was still in terrible shape. He tried to reach for me, but his legs didn't work at all so the most he accomplished was falling to one side. “I am eternal!” he rasped, frozen fingers grasping in my direction.

I lopped off his hands. “Not really,” I said, kicking the severed body parts aside. “Tell me what you've been up to, eh? I'm looking for an inquisitor.”

Guillaime did not mind the loss of his limbs, though he did stop trying to reach for me. “Planning to dismantle me slowly, are you?” he said, dropping the creepy zombie act. This son of an egg-sucking weasel... “Brazen bitch. I suppose the game is up.”

I used my foot to shove him upright. “Creepy undead asshole,” I said. “Damn right it is. You been falsely accusing people to get them killed? Is that what this is?”

He wheezed with laughter. “Oh, you _are_ a clever one,” he said. “Yes, that is precisely what I have been doing. Deveroix is quite efficient, don't you think? He sees heretics everywhere. All it takes is a little nudge and he does all the work himself. Ahh, the day he found me dying near the gates...yes, _that_ was the greatest day of his life. The golden goose, or so he thought.” Ice crackled along his cheeks as he grinned at me. “He treated me in exchange for information. When I finally died of exposure, he couldn't stand the thought of losing that goose. Ironic, isn't it? In his pursuit of heresy, he himself became a heretic...albeit in a far worse way!”

“Much to your delight, of course,” I observed. “Can you kill yourself?”

He eyed me. “Have you not been listening?” he asked. “I am eternal!”

“I'll take that for a no,” I said. “Excellent. Oh, look at this handy rope! Try not to get too handsy—oho, you can't! My apologies. Huh, your legs seem like dead weight. No offense.”

“What are you—damn you!” he growled as I hacked his legs off and set about hoisting his torso onto my back. I used the rope to lash us back-to-back as he cursed me in both common tongue and Ishgardian.

The already dark crevasse darkened further. Black shadows crawled up the sides and voices from beyond this world began to whisper at the edges of my senses. “Oh, come on,” I said as the ground in front of me bulged sickeningly. A clawed hand broke through the barrier between worlds.

“Let us see if you can make it to the surface,” said Guillaime.

“Keep talking and I'll take your tongue out too,” I warned him, and stomped on the hand. More bulges appeared around me. I ran for the ramp leading to freedom. Guillaime kept trying to throw me off by warning me of things that weren't there. He hadn't fully embraced his zombiehood, though: there were one or two times when he yelped in genuine fear as an actual voidsent took a swipe at him.

I squeezed through the narrow exit of the ramp after several hectic minutes of running. The otherworldly whispers faded from hearing. The exit put me about half a malm from Camp Dragonhead. I adjusted my unwilling cargo and started walking.

“Well,” Guillaime said with forced calm, “that was certainly exciting. I take it you plan to present me to everyone's favorite bastard?”

“I'm seriously considering dismembering you by the side of the road,” I said.

“Coming from you, I can believe it,” he said. “You are an utter savage, Ameme.”

He didn't know the half of it. “How well do you think a disembodied head can speak?” I wondered. Guillaime didn't answer. “I expect you'll need lungs. Oh, what's a delicate woman like me to do! You're just _so_ heavy, and I've already gotten rid of your legs and everything!”

“No one who has known you for more than five minutes will believe that act,” he said. “I have known you for considerably longer so pray stop.”

“Consider it revenge for the stupid zombie act,” I said. “Asshole. I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

We stopped talking. Despite my grumbles, he really wasn't that heavy. It was just annoying having to deal with him. It was even more annoying when I got to Camp Dragonhead and the guards decided to freak out.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE, NECROMANCER!” screeched the younger guard, waving his sword at me.

“Gah!” said the older one. “Why are you walking around with a zombie on your back?!”

“Oh, calm down,” I said. “It's just proof that Deveroix is insane. I need to see Lord Haurchefant, please.”

“BY THE FURY, IT'S AMEME!” the younger guard screamed, and took off into the fort.

“Is he okay?” I asked the remaining guard.

“Martevant? He's merely excitable,” he replied, studying Guillaime. “So, er...you found him dismembered, did you?”

“No. I cut off his hands when he tried to grab me and then his legs when I decided to carry him,” I said. “Seems Deveroix was using him to find heretics, so of course he named a bunch of innocents...” I craned my neck to check on Guillaime, but couldn't see a thing besides his shoulder. “He's not actually dead now, is he?”

“Oh no, he's blinking and looking around,” said the guard. “Looks rather displeased with his situation, understandably.”

Guillaime said something unprintable in Ishgardian.

“Now he's just being rude,” said the guard. “If you want, you can set him down. I expect Lord Haurchefant will be along momentarily, likely at a run when he hears _you're_ involved. I like the disguise, by the way. I confess it took most of us nearly the entire day to figure it out.”

I groaned and gently propped Guillaime against the wall. “I'm too recognizable,” I said.

“It's your eyes,” he said. “They're the loveliest color—er, not that I'm attempting to—I'm simply being honest.”

“Don't be fooled, Ameme,” Guillaime said. “Ishgardians have no compunctions about forcing women—what are you doing?”

I poked my way up his torso. “Trying to figure out where your diaphragm is. I figure I can lop off everything under that and still leave all the right bits working.”

“You think any mortal would dare lay a finger on Ameme?” the guard asked. “Damn, man, has becoming undead completely robbed you of your common sense?”

“I rather wish I were dead now,” said Guillaime, head lolling back with eyes shut. He stopped talking.

Stomping feet made me look up. Haurchefant, accompanied by a platoon of knights, a very pale Deveroix, and the Camp Dragonhead inquisitor Brigie, marched to the gates. His grim expression turned grimmer when he saw Guillaime.

Guillaime opened his eyes. “Hello, Lord Haurchefant,” he said.

Haurchefant jumped. “By the Fury!” he said. “'Tis true! You are one of the undead now. Inquisitor Deveroix, did I not tell you your presence would be necessary?”

Deveroix had lost his characteristic arrogance. Now he looked plain terrified. “Undead he may be, but I see not why—”

“I'm hurt that you don't wish to admit to our relationship, Deveroix,” said Guillaime. “Why, after all the help I gave you in finding heretics within House Haillenarte! If only you had realized Ameme had returned. You could have had her killed or expelled and carried on like before. 'Boy with the pretty eyes' indeed!”

“I've no idea what he is saying,” Deveroix said to Haurchefant. “None at all. He is clearly trying to bring down as many as possible—”

“Oh no no _no_ , Deveroix, I only wish to bring _you_ down with me now,” said Guillaime. “After all, you are a paragon of Ishgardian culture, are you not? Rooting out heretics, saving the virtuous...my, imagine if you had known all the people I named were innocent of any dealings with Dravanians...” A grin grew across his frozen face as Deveroix paled further. “I had such fun. You are so very gullible. Such a pity I could not kill every last one of you.” His face twisted. “Damn Ishgardian scum! All you do is kill! Anyone who so much as raises their voice in protest against this damned war is branded and outcast. Even those who don't! You repossess their land and destroy families and you're blind to anything else!”

Haurchefant's gaze was steely and his voice calm. “Ameme, my friend, do you know how to put an end to the undead?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Pray tell me so I may put this man out of his misery. He has suffered enough.”

Guillaime sneered. “Ignore my words at your peril, Haurchefant!” he said.

“I hear you,” Haurchefant said. “I cannot condone any of your actions, whatever prompted them. Nay, Ameme, you needn't do it yourself.”

“I'll finish what I started,” I said. _Good-bye, whatever your name is_ , I added in my head. _I will end this war so people like you no longer come about._

Almost as though he heard me, Guillaime met my gaze and simply said, “Fare well, Ameme.” I looked him in the eye, nodded, and swung. His body slumped as his head hit the ground. Black ichor oozed out of the stump of the neck. Everyone backed away from the stench.

Brigie at last made herself useful by turning to Deveroix and saying, “By the power invested in me by the Holy See, I must place you under arrest for suspicion of being a heretic.”

Deveroix panicked. “What! No! Can't you see I was only trying to—you can't do this!”

“After that show? I think I can,” she said. “You let power go to your head, you fool. Lord Haurchefant, I am in need of an escort to the Gates of Judgment with this heretic.”

Haurchefant gestured grandly. “We are at your disposal, Inquisitor.” The knights surrounding Deveroix grinned. Deveroix's shoulders slumped.

Brigie turned to me. “It would be remiss of me not to thank you for your assistance,” she said, bowing. “Were it not for your efforts, this tragedy would have continued. You may be certain the Holy See will hear of your involvement.”

Was that good or bad? I nodded to her and watched them head out into the night, one miserable man surrounded by pleased soldiers with an unamused woman at the fore.

“What do we do with this corpse, then?” someone asked.

“Burn it,” suggested another.

“Ser Hourlinet, pray arrange to have it dragged to Witchdrop,” Haurchefant said. “I'll not have it remain to sicken the rest of us. Ameme, pray call your friends and join me in the intercessory. I shall have food sent.” He gave me a tired smile. “It is the least I can do for freeing us from what I can only call a nightmare.”

“Any time,” I said.

~*~

I dreamed I was in a soft bed in a room heated by a crackling fire.

_This is familiar_ , I thought as I opened my eyes. Sure enough, when I looked to the left I saw my dream companion's broad back as he once more turned pages in a book. I stared and stared and stared, and I swear I memorized every muscle in his back, but I could not have said what he looked like. All I knew was that it was soothing simply watching him read.

_I wonder if I can touch him._

Thought became action, for this was a dream and dreams were where thoughts _were_ action. I put my arm out and pressed the palm of my hand between my companion's shoulder blades. For a moment I thought I felt real heat beneath my fingers.

I woke to an empty bed and Midgardsormr's tiny teeth sunk into my fingers. With a hiss, I tugged my hand free and shielded my face from his tail as he whacked me across the nose with it. “Oi!” I whispered.

Evidently my dream action had translated to me shoving Midgardsormr off his pillow in my sleep and he had not taken kindly to the rude awakening. Fortunately I had been given a private guest room, so I was able to growl at him for biting.

“Why do you even manifest to sleep, anyway?” I demanded. He burped fire at me and crawled inside the pillowcase. I shoved his pillow farther away and tried to get back to sleep.

Not happening. I gave up and rolled out of bed to give the dying fire a few pokes and feed it a log or two. Then, as light crept in through the window, I wrapped a spare blanket around my waist and danced.

An arm stretched to the heavens here, feet precisely placed there. I twirled and pranced until I could almost hear the music in time with my heart. It was not beautiful and only just this side of graceful, for I was not a dancer and never would be, but that didn't matter.

_I think I know who it is_ , I said to myself of my dream companion. I wished I didn't. I wished I didn't have the dreams at all. They only left me struggling with the temptation to find his room and sneak into bed with him. I didn't want to get attached. If I didn't get attached, I wouldn't have to relive what destroyed me before.

The room grew hot with the revived fire and my dancing, enough so that I could pretend it was sweat running into my eyes rather than the vicious sting of tears. I did not think of Haurchefant, nor of the many who died in the Waking Sands not three days ago. I did not think of the tempered men, did not think of the Brass Blades, did not think of the kobolds, did not think of Haillenarte, did not think of Guillaime. I thought of flying and dancing and music. I thought of roast karakul and spicy dodo cutlets and the smell of sulfur in the kobold mines.

My impromptu dance ended abruptly with a knock on my door. I stayed in my last position, forehead pressed to one knee with my arms outspread as I knelt, until I woke from my strange state. Cid was on the other side of the door.

“Couldn't sleep?” he asked, taking in my flushed face and slumped posture. I shook my head. “Me either. Heard about the zombie you found. Listen, I caught Lord Haurchefant on his morning ride and he said he thought he'd hear back from his sources around breakfast.”

“Okay?”

“I don't want to pry,” he said, “but if you and Lord Haurchefant are involved, you might want to set aside some time to say good-bye to him. Once we find The Enterprise, we're taking it straight back to Gridania if it flies.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “We're not involved,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? After what I saw when you two were reunited...”

“That probably wasn't a good idea,” I admitted quietly.

“I think it's a great idea,” he said. “You could use the support. Anyway, think about it. I'm going to hunt down some coffee in the meantime. If I can't find any, I'll carry Alphinaud to morning warm-ups that I'm told happen every day. That'll get him moving.”

“They're in the strategy room where Haurchefant's desk is,” I said. “And Haurchefant shouting at you to do sit-ups is a surefire way to wake up.”

Cid grinned. “This is going to be fun,” he said. “See you then.”

I shut the door and felt Midgardsormr land on my head. “Now what?” I asked grumpily.

«If thou thinkest to avoid the bond, know that the opportunity is long gone,» Midgardsormr said.

“I hate you all,” I muttered, and got dressed. Midgardsormr insisted on crawling back and forth on my head and shoulders as I shrugged my now-unglamoured furs on and belted my boots. I scrubbed my face clean at the wash basin and pulled out my war paint. Cheek, cheek, dot dot dot... With everything back in its usual place, I felt in control of life once more. I strode confidently out of the guest room.

My confidence quickly waned the closer I got to the strategy room. By the time I reached the doors, I was practically tiptoeing. _Please don't be inside already_ , I prayed as I entered. Not that I didn't _want_ to see him, but confirming the truth was a rather scary prospect first thing in the morning...

I was hit from the side by a squealing Miqo'te of the familiar variety. “Ameme!” Goobbue screeched, wrapping her arms around my middle. “You're all right! You did it!”

“Gyah,” I said. “When did you get here?”

“This mooooorning!” she sang, her tail flicking excitedly. Over her head, I saw Soluvrain, Moonlight River, and Essenta lounging at a table. Soluvrain nodded to me while Moonlight River and Essenta waved. “We heard all about how the inquisitor got kicked out, and the zombie, and how you saved the day! So I said, 'Soluvrain, let's go back to Camp Dragonhead!' because we all wanted to see you.” She released me and peered at my face. “Aw! You got rid of the make-up! I heard everyone thought you were a man for a while!”

“Apparently it wasn't too convincing,” I said. “I heard _you_ got in trouble trying to save someone.”

Goobbue's face fell and her ears flattened. “Yes...they—her brother told me she jumped into Witchdrop not long after I left. They're in shock about the whole thing, but now that the inquisitor is gone I hope things get better for Haillenarte. I wish I could have done something! It was like being in a bad dream.”

“Nightmare, more like,” said Moonlight River. “I saw what was going down and told Sol he had to get Goobbue out _now_. Rest of us packed up and left that night. Ishgardians are a scary bunch when they're after you. Must come of being up against dragons all the time.”

“We were lucky Lord Haurchefant was on our side,” Essenta said. “Goobbue wouldn't've made it out alive if he hadn't delayed the Temple Knights when Deveroix wanted to arrest her.”

“Ser Hourlinet warned us, too,” Moonlight River said. “Anyway, I'm right glad you came back and set things straight, Ameme. And I hear you went and fought Titan by yourself, too!”

I shrugged. “A lot has happened. I'm really glad you're all safe. Did you plan to keep working here?”

They glanced at each other. “We might go elsewhere for a while,” Moonlight River said. “This little incident just goes to show how fast things can turn on you here. Figured we'd chat with Lord Haurchefant first about the state of things.”

“I'm willing to stay if it's safe,” Goobbue said. “There's still so much to learn!”

Essenta started teasing Goobbue about her preferences in men while Moonlight River rolled his eyes. Knights filed in sleepily as Goobbue stridently defended her love of Ishgardian music.

“Just when I'd gotten used to the quiet!” one of the knights exclaimed, laughing. “Sing us a song, Goobbue! And welcome back!”

The knights surrounded us happily, chattering and catching up with the adventurers. Someone informed me that I almost had her fooled. Another claimed he had lost his earplugs and now needed to find new ones with Goobbue back. The hubbub was so great that hardly anyone noticed when Cid, Alphinaud, and Haurchefant entered. Cid seemed pretty awake, but Alphinaud had a distinctly zombie-like expression and only moved when Cid poked him.

“ATTENTION!” Haurchefant bellowed. The knights ran to their usual spots, the adventurers scattered, and Alphinaud jumped about a malm in the air with a surprised squeak. “Ahh, Master Alphinaud, Master Garlond. So wonderful of you to join us!” Haurchefant said at a much more reasonable volume. “Best stick with Ameme for warm-ups.”

Alphinaud opened his mouth to protest, eyes wide, but Cid jabbed him in the ribs and he shut up. I dragged them to where Goobbue and Essenta stood.

“Gooooooood morning,” Goobbue said, waving a hand in front of Alphinaud's face. “Are you awake, miss?”

Alphinaud's eyes opened even wider. “I beg your pardon?!”

“Oh, sorry,” said Goobbue. “You can't always tell gender with Elezen children.”

“There's no coffee until a shipment makes it from Ishgard, so just deal with it,” Cid said while Alphinaud choked on sleepy outrage.

Haurchefant was on them like white on snow. “NO TALKING IN THE BACK! Sit-ups, two sets!! Reserve your energy until our food supplies are restocked!”

Essenta groaned but got started. Alphinaud looked confused by the entire set of directions until I taught him how to do sit-ups. I sat on his feet as he struggled to get himself all the way up. For push-ups, I managed to talk him through about fifteen before his arms gave up the ghost. “Nngh,” he said. “Never...again...”

“Come, come, Master Alphinaud! A strong core will serve you well in the long run,” Haurchefant said, plopping next to us to start pumping out perfect push-ups. I stared at his back as his muscles flexed. Um...

“I am a scholar, not a knight,” Alphinaud said. “This is wholly unnecessary.”

Haurchefant just laughed at him. “One more, Master Alphinaud, and I shall leave you be,” he said. “You needn't do the last exercise if it's too much for you.”

That got Alphinaud back in push-up position, shaking violently as he attempted one more. “It is _not_ too much for me!” he said.

“That's the spirit!” Haurchefant winked at me. I stared at him, trying to sense if he was The One I Came Back For. The best I could manage was the strong impression that he was exactly where he wanted to be. “And you, Ameme? How are you—hup!—this morning? You were out in the cold for quite a while yesterday.”

“Fine. I did some warm-ups in my room with the fire going this morning.”

“Such remarkable stamina,” he said. Alphinaud flopped to the floor again. “Excellent job, Master Alphinaud! Why, I daresay you are one of the more physically fit scholars who have taken on the morning exercises here.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my lord,” Alphinaud muttered to the ground.

“I do mean that, you know. Not everyone can be Ameme.” He glanced past us to Cid. “Or Master Garlond, either,” he said. “I must say, you've excellent form, Master Garlond.” He finished his sets and rolled to his feet.

I decided to study Alphinaud's limp body instead of Haurchefant's bare chest. “Are you still alive?” I asked the kid.

“Yes, regrettably,” he said. “What is the next exercise?”

“Oh, oh!” said Goobbue. “Lord Haurchefant, I learned a new dance in Gridania!”

“Did you? How splendid! Let's see it,” said Haurchefant, nearly as excited.

“The dance is the next one,” I said. “Come on, Alphinaud. By the time you're done, you'll forget you were cold.”

Alphinaud groaned melodramatically but got up and slowly followed the dance steps Goobbue taught. Goobbue, being a bard and a Miqo'te, was an excellent dancer. The rest of us ranged from horrid (Moonlight River) to passable (me, Essenta) to surprisingly good (Cid, Soluvrain) to 'clearly had a rich person's childhood that included formal dance lessons' (Haurchefant, Alphinaud).

“To breakfast!” Haurchefant announced when we had managed to do the dance as a group once. “I am afraid we continue to lack in coffee. I recommend the highland tea, however! Scions, if you will meet me at my desk in five minutes, I shall give you my tidings regarding your task.”

We wiped the sweat off our brows and dutifully assembled at Haurchefant's desk. Goobbue and the others waved at me and ran to Hourlinet for a serious conversation.

“I see why everyone likes him,” Cid remarked as we waited. “He was really quite glum when we first met, wasn't he?”

“Haurchefant is a bundle of enthusiasm and sunshine,” I said.

“Ameme!” said the man himself from right behind me. I didn't even twitch. “I'm flattered that you think of me as such,” he said, moving around to his desk chair. He had an actual shirt on for once rather than the usual haubergeon. “You are a hero to us all, myself especially, for your deeds yesterday. Regarding your airship, I am happy to report that a witness has been found! I've arranged to have them meet with you within the bell.” He beamed at us.

“Excellent,” said Alphinaud. “In that case, we had best break our fast quickly. Thank you for your assistance, Lord Haurchefant.” He nodded to Haurchefant and walked out, presumably to find the mess hall.

“That boy will catch cold if he does not find an adequate coat,” Haurchefant observed candidly. “I cannot imagine how difficult it was to get him here in the first place dressed like that.”

“I'll just say I'd prefer not to repeat the experience,” Cid said. “I think I'll find a bite to eat myself since it sounds like we'll be hitting the ground running after this. Remember what I said, Ameme.” He slapped my shoulder and left me with Haurchefant.

“Hmm?” said Haurchefant, noticing my frown. “Did something happen?”

“No,” I said. “Well...he thinks I should say good-bye to you.”

Haurchefant stilled. I think the temperature around his desk dropped a few degrees, too. “And what, pray tell, did he mean by that?” he inquired.

“Because we're probably going to fly the airship to Gridania immediately when we find it,” I explained. “So since I won't see you for a while and I have to fight another primal...”

He relaxed. “Ah,” he said. “Master Garlond is a perceptive man. Wait, you must fight yet another primal?” Now _he_ was frowning.

“Garuda,” I said. “She has a shield of wind-aspected aether, so we'll need some way to counter it before I can get in to face her.”

“And so you go to brave the next challenge,” he said. “Wind-aspected aether, is it? Most interesting. I am no expert in aether, but I have often been told ice counters wind. I recall thinking the ways of aether were most mysterious, as wind certainly has a habit of blowing on even the iciest of days here in Coerthas.”

I slapped my hands on his desk. “Brilliant!” I said. “You're right, ice _does_ counter wind! And there's nothing but ice around here! It's perfect!”

“I do not believe the ice crystals in this part of Coerthas to be of sufficient strength to break through a primal's shield,” Haurchefant said, spoiling my excitement. “You may wish to look into the area around Snowcloak, however; the aetheric atmosphere has so severely shifted towards ice that you may find a crystal of sufficient strength there. Unfortunately the area is quite dangerous because of this.”

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. “I'll let Cid know. We can probably give it a try.”

Haurchefant brightened. “Then we will not part ways so soon! So what would you say to joining me for dinner, just the two of us, this—”

Someone ran screaming into the room, interrupting him. “The Horde is attacking the north gate!” shrieked the excitable young guard from yesterday. “It's Svara!”

Haurchefant leapt to his feet. “To arms!” he shouted. “Every able-bodied knight! Ameme, no—I cannot ask you to fight for—”

I ignored him and ran to the north gate with the crowd. The knights who had gotten there first were locked in a fierce battle with several aevises, the creepy flat-toothed dragons that Ishgardians morphed into upon ingestion of dragon blood. Behind them reared a massive dark-scaled dragon with eyes like sapphires. I raced to the fore and stood ready to fight, axe bared. Our eyes met.

The Echo screamed in my head, making me flinch. _Not now!_ I thought, fighting against the waves of memories crashing against my mind. The dragon opened its jaws, bubbling blue fire sitting at the back of its throat.

_I WILL NOT FORGIVE_

“Ameme! Move!” someone shouted. I clapped a hand to my temple and tried to get out of the way. _ISHGARD FOR_ My feet tripped me up somehow as the world went _THE SINS THEY HAVE_ sideways. _COMMITTED AGAINST US_

_...and I saw myself standing on a bridge, golden eye in hand, as a dragon the size of a building ascended into the sky. The dead and dying lay around me. A boy and I watched a man in bloody armor gasp..._

Someone wrapped their arms around my torso and hauled me out of the way. Fire scorched the earth where I had _BRINGER_ just stood.

“Ameme, can you hear me?”

I _OF LIGHT_ opened my eyes wide. Haurchefant had just saved me from being roasted. Now he was sitting with me in his arms _DO NOT THINK_ behind a wall of knights. “Oh, hello,” I said dreamily. “I think I...am...alive...” _IT WILL_

_BE_ “What happened?” _SO_

_EASY THIS TIME_ Tiny claws bit into my scalp. «On thy feet, champion of Hydaelyn,» said Midgardsormr. «Nidhogg hast been made aware of thy coming, and knows thine intent. Fight! I will shield thy mind for this battle.»

I focused on Haurchefant's face. “Good gods,” I said. “Why are you still wearing that shirt? Go get your armor!” I wriggled out of his lap, seized my axe from the knight holding it, and vaulted over them. “HYAAAAAH!” I threw myself at Svara. Red aether blazed to life around me, displacing rocks and snow in a minor explosion. The dragon did not know what hit her. My axe roared as it split the air. Every blow I landed—and I landed all of them—sent her reeling backwards again and again and again.

We fought for nearly a bell, me and Svara. Her hide was incredibly tough, so it took me about that long trying to get at her neck before I managed to open up her jugular, which weakened her enough that I was able to gouge out her eyes. She fell with a thud that shook the walls and cracked the flagstones.

I stood amid the gore, contemplating the now still body of my opponent. Nidhogg, was it? Interesting. And Midgardsormr had helped me...

“Ameme!”

Haurchefant was always yelling my name. I turned to glare as he ran up to me, arms spread. He was back in his haubergeon and slightly on the dirty side what with all the aevis blood. “Don't touch me!” I said sharply. He stopped dead less than a fulm away. I backed up. “Stay out of the dragon blood,” I said. “Go on. I'm fine.” I glared at Cid and Alphinaud when they ran to me, too. “You guys stay back. This stuff isn't safe.”

“So you're saying we have to hose you down before we can congratulate you on taking down a dragon singlehandedly?” Cid said dryly. “Damn, woman! I don't know how you do it. Go get yourself cleaned up so you can stop glaring at us. Have you even had breakfast yet?”

I slung my axe across the back of my shoulders, not caring that blood still dripped from the blade and handle. “Point me to a clean snowdrift,” I said.

“No need,” said Haurchefant. “The showers will work just fine. Come, my friend! Once you are clean, you and I will have a chat about charging into battle by yourself.”

“I wasn't by myself,” I said.

“You certainly weren't paying enough attention to care about positioning yourself so others could assist,” he retorted. “Enough! Let us away.” When I didn't move, his voice dropped and he said, “ _Now_ , or I shall splash about in this conveniently placed puddle of dragon's blood.”

That was a serious threat. Rather sullenly, I headed to the women's showers. Everyone respectfully gave me space as I passed. Three lady knights showering in there offered to help rinse off my furs. I declined and simply stood myself clothes and all under the spigot until the worst of it was off. Then I stripped and wasted a full bottle of shampoo washing my furs while the rest washed off naturally. I wrung everything out, patted myself dry, and discovered someone had left a pile of my spare clothes by the shower stall while I was occupied. They were just work clothes for when I wanted to go berry-hunting, but they covered everything and worked against the cold, so I put them on and hung my furs up to dry.

My sullen, bitter attitude had left me some time between using shampoo on my clothing and setting it out to dry on benches. Now I was just tired. I went to the mess hall, where I found Haurchefant, Cid, and Alphinaud waiting.

Cid did not beat around the bush. “All right, you,” he said. “Confess. What in the bloody hells happened right before that fight? And don't try to say it was nothing. Lord Haurchefant had to swoop in like a knight from a fairy tale to get you out of the way.”

“It was The Echo,” I said. “Sometimes its timing is less than convenient.” I pondered the food in front of me. My stomach was a bit queasy at the moment. I took a tentative bite. Ugh, finishing the whole plate was going to be a struggle, I could already tell.

“I've heard of such incidents,” Alphinaud said. “One cannot control the gift. Pray share with us what you saw.”

“Wasn't 'saw' so much as 'heard',” I said. “Some monstrous voice saying 'I will not forgive Ishgard for the sins they have committed against us'.”

“Forgive my ignorance, but what is The Echo?” Haurchefant asked.

“A gift some few among us have which manifests in various forms depending on the individual,” Alphinaud said. “As I understand it, Ameme here most often peers into the past of those she meets. Minfilia, too, shares this manifestation.”

Haurchefant crossed his arms and fingered his chin. “Fascinating,” he said. “And the timing cannot be controlled, yes? Glad am I, then, that I was present and able to reach you!”

_You have no idea how much I appreciate you at all times_ , I thought. “I'm grateful for your timely intervention.”

“Any time, my friend!” he said. “Now I trust there are some tidings regarding your airship...?”

“Right. We did a bit of running about while you were fighting that dragon,” Cid said. “To make a long story short, The Enterprise is in the Stone Vigil, which, I'm told, is in the charge of Lord Drillemont over at Whitebrim Front.”

“Somewhat,” said Haurchefant. “It fell to the Dravanians some time after the Calamity, I'm afraid. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say getting in will be no easy feat, even with a contingent of the best knights in Ishgard.”

“The question is really if one Ameme is better than a contingent of the best knights in Ishgard,” Cid remarked dryly.

That seemed rather arrogant a thought to have. If I had to choose, I would've gone for me plus a contingent of knights, not either or. “Why not both?” I said.

“And maximize your chances of success? Don't be ridiculous,” said Cid.

“Hush, Cid. I _deserve_ the best,” I said, fluffing my hair daintily.

“Would that I could provide you with such,” Haurchefant said, giving me a wistful look. “Unfortunately, the Stone Vigil being under Durendaire's jurisdiction, the most I can provide you is a letter of recommendation. No doubt Lord Drillemont would be willing to oblige—you are, after all, someone that has done much and more for Ishgard in these troubled times.”

“And what is the likelihood he'd lend us manpower?” Cid asked.

Haurchefant shook his head. “With resources stretched thin as they are, there is little chance of such. Nay, my friends, it seems you must go it alone. Though if you'll have me, I—”

“NO,” I said, very firmly. Cid quickly smothered a laugh.

Haurchefant's ears drooped visibly at my emphatic response. “But—!”

“She's right,” said Cid. “We do need to take off as soon as we find the ship...if we find the ship, and if it's still capable of flight. Wouldn't want to leave you stranded, my lord.”

I nodded, although my honest knee-jerk reaction had just been a very strong desire to keep him where he was safe. Haurchefant heaved a gusty sigh and said, “There is sense in that. Very well, I shall instead have my knights watch the skies for you.”

I opened my mouth to say thanks or somesuch, but Alphinaud, who must have decided he hadn't met his talking quota this fine day, said in his typical grandiose manner, “You have our most sincere gratitude, Lord Haurchefant, for everything you've done for us since our arrival. When Ameme confessed to having a friend in Coerthas, I admittedly expected someone of similar temperament.”

Excuse me? What did he mean by that?

“Glad am I to find such a valiant, honest, and honorable knight has won her over. There is—” Alphinaud started to add, only for Haurchefant to interrupt almost bashfully.

“I deserve not such effusive praise, especially as I've yet to properly assist you in your endeavors,” said Haurchefant. “Now, I think you've dallied enough here. If you allow me some time, I shall give you your letter of recommendation and arrange for rations to sustain you on your journey.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We'll wait for the free lunch.” Haurchefant smiled at me and strode away.

Alphinaud gazed after him with a small frown. Whatever he thought, he thankfully kept in his head. “Er. So is there aught else we need, since we must wait for supplies and the letter?”

“You can get a coat,” I said. “Otherwise no.”

Alphinaud, with the manner of someone setting out to fight a dragon, took himself away to find some proper gear. Cid sat with me and drank tea until it was time to go.

Yaelle arrived with the letter and our lunches. Haurchefant, it seemed, had taken hardly more than two steps into the strategy room before he was instantly buried in a mountain of paperwork. Lest we think today's attack had contributed to this abrupt backlog, Yaelle blandly informed us that her esteemed lord commander had managed to 'lose' a great deal of it on his desk over the past few weeks, the majority of which she had discovered underneath the only papers he kept neatly organized and all together. These papers turned out to be numerous letters to me, which Yaelle had collected in a big wad and now handed to me with a secretive smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

I tucked the letters in my pack, thinking I might read them later when I had time. Alphinaud arrived clad in a thick fur coat and announced that we must away, for time is of the essence and blah blah blah. Alphinaud-speak for 'my fur coat has placed me in charge and I love the sound of my own voice'. Some distant, sarcastic part of me thought life would have been better if he had stayed cold.

I was nothing if not good at ignoring people under the guise of listening, so I simply tuned him out as we headed for Whitebrim Front. “Uh huh,” I said in response to Alphinaud babbling about what he had learned of Ishgardian culture in the past 24 bells. Something about beet soup, maybe. Five minutes ago he had been commenting about the effects of the Calamity on Coerthas's climate. “Right,” I said when he had moved on to the sociopolitical intricacies he had observed in Dragonhead and how that might differ in Whitebrim Front, a military base. “Wow,” I said some time later near Whitebrim Front when Alphinaud proudly declared his fur coat had made the current temperature positively tolerable.

Whitebrim Front was as bristly and hostile as ever. My gaze wandered over it, seeking any changes. They ought to have gotten news of what had happened at Camp Dragonhead by now. Would we be welcome or...?

“In case you haven't noticed, she tuned you out two bells ago,” Cid said dryly. I blinked and glanced at them. Alphinaud looked rather pouty.

“I would appreciate it if you could answer my question,” Alphinaud said. “Is there aught we should know before setting foot inside Whitebrim Front?”

Oh. Uh. “Military. Less friendly. Lord Drillemont might remember me if we can get in through the gate.”

“Less friendly,” Cid repeated. “What does that mean? Outright hostility or just the cold shoulder?”

I shrugged. “Don't waste their time or they'll just ignore you,” I said. “You'll see in a moment.”

True to my word, the gatekeep gave us the most dubious stare I had encountered since the last time I had visited and frankly wouldn't have given us the time of day if it weren't for the seal on the envelope we carried. I could already tell he was going to give us the runaround almost before he opened his mouth. “You can take this to Ser Alboise,” he said. “She is in the—”

“The storerooms, I know,” I said. He started and studied me more closely. “Are you going to let us in or not?”

He recognized me now. “You're that adventurer who helped expose that false inquisitor!” he exclaimed. “I thought you'd died in some sort of attack.”

“Unfortunately for my enemies, no,” I said. “I lived and now I'm here about an airship in the Stone Vigil.”

“She also single-handedly put down Svara earlier today,” Cid put in helpfully.

“Really, now,” said the gatekeep sarcastically. “All by herself, I suppose. Well, nothing prevents you from walking into the fort. Just don't cause any trouble.”

Alphinaud and Cid exchanged glances once we were inside but said nothing. It was evident at once to a layman how different Whitebrim Front was compared to Dragonhead. The closest they had to peaceful merchants were sutlers. The rest were knights, all rugged and cold-bitten, their cheeks sunken and ill humor evident in their postures. Durendaire may have been the mightiest of the four High Houses of Ishgard, but that meant little in the face of the elements this far from home.

Drillemont, much to my surprise, remembered me. “Ameme,” he said when he saw my head appear at the top of the stairs leading to his command center. “It seems I owe you yet another favor for your efforts to keep us free of heretics. What brings you to me today?”

I handed him Haurchefant's letter. Alphinaud said, “Allow me to introduce myself, Lord Drillemont. I am Alphinaud Leveilleur and—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Drillemont said, more interested in the letter. “Last survivors of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn or somesuch. Hmm...you mean to find the Enterprise and records show it landed in the Stone Vigil?” He pursed his lips, wrinkles forming all over his face. “There is where you will run into trouble, my friend. The Stone Vigil remains in the possession of the Dravanian forces. We are currently organizing to retake the vigil, but that will be some time in the next moon rather than today, I'm afraid.”

“We planned to go in by ourselves,” said Alphinaud. “While we are cognizant of the dangers, this is not a matter that can wait. We must lay hands on the Enterprise or else a great many lives will be forfeit.”

Drillemont gave Alphinaud a keen look before nodding. “I see. So you merely seek permission to enter. That is not beyond my power, however...”

Alphinaud drew himself to his full height. Since he was sadly a few years away from one of those famous Elezen growth spurts, that put him barely at sternum level on Drillemont. “However...?” he prompted.

“I am not a man to ignore my debts, even ones owed to what others may see as a mere adventurer,” Drillemont said. “Pray allow me some time and I shall furnish you with a small meal and an escort to the vigil as well as a map of the structure. That should assist somewhat in finding your airship.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Lord Drillemont,” I said.

Rather unexpectedly, he smiled at me. “You can wait in the mess hall. I shall send someone with your supplies within the bell.”

Good enough for me. I towed the other two back down the stairs and scooted around hungry knights to find a spot to loiter. True to his word, Drillemont sent someone half a bell later. We got a decent share of food—quite generous considering how low their supplies seemed to be again—and a detailed map of the Stone Vigil. Alphinaud spread the map on the table to study as we ate. The knight acting as messenger helpfully identified the spots most likely to play host to an errant airship.

“Why would they seize an airship that obviously crashed?” I asked the knight. “Seems like a waste of energy.”

The knight shrugged. “Ishgard does have an interest in airships, given our enemies' ability to fly,” she said. “If this was the Enterprise as you suspect, it would be doubly valuable. If it were not for the Calamity, I suspect the men at the Vigil would have tried to figure out how to fly it, if not outright reproduce it. Barring its owner reclaiming it, of course.”

Cid snorted. She offered him an apologetic smile and left us to our thoughts. When we were ready, we left.

The weather was in our favor for once, with only a light snowfall and overcast skies to obstruct the view. I cast an appreciative eye across the landscape as we toiled around the foothills towards the great stone edifice that was the vigil. In the distance I could see Ishgard jutting into the sky like a spear, surrounded by empty air and connected to the rest of the world only by a single bridge. Far above its gleaming spires rested the Sea of Clouds, a swirling pseudo-maelstrom of puffy white cotton bolls and the occasional bit of floating land. The knights rarely spoke of it, despite how wondrous flying islands should have been. I had the strong impression that they considered it disgustingly safe and free of dragons. Sounded like a nice place to me.

“By the Twelve, it positively seethes,” Alphinaud announced from the edge of a cliff. I seized his collar and dragged him away before he got so fascinated by the aether below that he slipped and fell. “Ameme!” he protested, a whine in his voice like he was the kid brother I'd never asked for.

“Go on, Alphinaud,” said Cid irritably. “We don't have all day.” He squinted at the sky with a suspicion borne of being caught in a blizzard recently. “Or even all bell,” he added.

With a shared groan, the three of us hurried around the bend. The Stone Vigil, huge and broken and derelict, loomed before us. Not far from the entrance sat a handful of knights whose job was clearly to keep an eye on the vigil. They were so cold and tired they didn't give a damn what we wanted once we proved we had permission to be there. One just pointed to the door leading into the vigil and told us to watch out for falling rocks. Oh, and dragons. He'd send word of our demise after two days if he didn't see the ship in the air. I didn't know about the others, but that vote of confidence was definitely a morale booster.

Alphinaud broke out the map as we entered. “Let's see,” he mumbled. “We can go the route we plotted—”

“I think we might have some trouble with that,” Cid said. I nodded in agreement. The inside of the vigil was a complete mess. Hardly thirty steps inside, I could already see at least two places where the ceiling had caved in.

Alphinaud took his nose out of the map long enough to note the damage. “Well, then,” he said, scribbling in red on the map. “I've no doubt Lord Drillemont will find it useful if we mark where the corridors have become impassable. Let us turn left ahead and see where that takes us.”

We went down the left corridor and almost instantly ran into a huge pile of rubble. The ceiling further down was gone, turning the length of the corridor into an open-air hallway. Support beams barred what little climbable areas remained.

“Guess we're going right,” said Cid. Alphinaud marked the spot on the map and we turned back. For the next three bells, we wandered through the vigil in silence. Nothing was around, not even a token Dravanian force that could annoy us with fire or something.

Just as I was beginning to feel as though the only reason we would die was because we got crushed by crumbling architecture, we turned a corner to enter the right brattice and all seven hells decided to break loose right on our heads.

When I say all seven, I really do mean all seven. The walls of the brattice ahead collapsed, showering us with rubble. The ceiling caved in at the same time. The noise was indescribable and went on and on, even as we backed up from the clouds of dust and ice. Alphinaud may have shrieked, unless that was me. When the clouds settled, we found ourselves face to face with a very angry dragon.

_Not quite as large as Svara_ , I thought critically. Its eyes glowed red and it opened its toothy maw to spit fire at us. Just behind its lashing tail, I saw a dark figure in billowing robes.

“Ascian!” I growled, thoroughly distracted.

The dragon let loose with a bolt of—ice?! Ahh, that wasn't what I had expected. I rolled to the side as the other two dove for cover. My axe took a glancing blow from the ice and began to steam faintly. I knocked the ice off and glared.

“Try _this_ on for size, Bringer of Light!” the Ascian called mockingly, and cackled.

I was totally about to vault over the dragon and give him a piece of my mind when the dragon suddenly scuttled to the side. A great darkscale paw came down on the remaining piece of wall, obliterating it. I looked up, mouth agape, as a long, sinuous neck curled into view where there had once been a ceiling. Four curved horns as dark as night...a snapping jaw full of teeth, like a monster from a nightmare...and one gleaming yellow eye that turned to look first at me, then at the Ascian. Jet black wings spread, the neck arched—

It was Nidhogg.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Oh hells. Oh no.”

Nidhogg's head darted like a snake. I heard the Ascian yell. He must have tried to flee, because Nidhogg stomped the rest of the right brattice into the dirt in pursuit. Then Nidhogg stilled and his neck retracted. The head swung into view, a wriggling robed Ascian impaled on his many sharp teeth. Nidhogg spat him onto the stone and pinned him with a massive paw.

_«_ _Meddler!_ _»_ growled Nidhogg. « _Darest thou employ my children for thine own purposes!_ »

“Oh, bugger,” said the Ascian as Nidhogg's maw opened. He vanished in a puff of dark smoke just as Nidhogg bathed the area in fire and rage.

I'd seen enough. “Run!” I hissed at Alphinaud and Cid. We ducked into the hall and sprinted wildly, trying desperately not to lose each other but still find our way to the strong room without incident.

How we succeeded I'll never know. All I recall from that frantic flight was bursting into the strong room, only to have a familiar voice bellow, “'WARE, AMEME!” just as Nidhogg slammed into the tower next to us. We tumbled out of the way of the collapsing spire. I landed on my feet. The same could almost be said of Cid and Alphinaud, if we allowed for a bit of flailing.

“There!” said Cid, pointing to the frost-covered airship perched along one wall. “Come on, Alphinaud! Let Ameme handle that!” They high-tailed it towards the ship. I spread my feet and readied my axe.

The owner of the voice who had shouted warning dropped into view. He was...spiky. Immensely. Also very dark. I recognized the lance, though. “Oh, it's you,” I said. “Estinien.”

Nidhogg twisted to glare. « _You! Begone!_ »

“You'll not have your vengeance this day, wurm!” retorted Estinien, holding his off-hand out. A red ball sat in his palm leaking all sorts of nasty aether. It looked so familiar that I—

« _Again, thou wouldst use mine own eye against me!_ » Nidhogg snarled. « _Think not that I am so easily bested by such tricks!_ »

“Mayhap not, but it will work for now,” said Estinien. Nidhogg chose to disagree to that with a large fireball. Estinien backflipped into the strong hold proper and once again held the ball aloft. From here, I could see a slitted pupil on the ball. It pulsed with power, causing Nidhogg's head to jerk back. I took the chance to attack his exposed jugular.

Sadly, the effect the eye had on him was not enough to render him completely helpless. His enormous head whipped around, forcing me to dodge. My axe blade clipped one of his horns as I stumbled.

« _Die!_ » Nidhogg growled, opening his mouth. My axe was stuck on the horns, so I resorted to the next best thing and punched his remaining gold eye with all my strength and not a little bit of aether. He let out an ungodly screeching noise and reared back, ripping my axe from my grip in the process. The axe finally came away and fell some distance from me.

Estinien let out his own roar as he vaulted and brought his lance to bear, clearly intending to finish Nidhogg off. Nidhogg dodged and spread his great wings with a clap. The downdraft as he took to the sky nearly blew me over.

“Yeowch!” I groaned when it was clear Nidhogg had retreated. Estinien spat angrily and tucked the eye into his pouch. “Thanks,” I said.

Estinien slowly turned to glare at me from under the beak of his helm. If looks could melt people into vapor, I would have been a goner. “This is _your_ fault,” he said, and dragoon-hopped the wall without another word. A distant roar told me he had found the other dragon.

“Ameme!” Cid called. “We got her working! Let's get out of here before something else happens!”

_Another day, another mystery_ , I thought. _At least I didn't get eaten. That would have sucked._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one expects the Ishgardian Inquisition! Or any of the changes I make to the plot! Not even me!


	4. Homicidal Urges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to my dear dog Terra, who fell into our pond and drowned this past weekend. I love you, Terra. I'm so sorry.

_Hello,_

_I am writing to inform you I am alive. How is life without insane inqwisiters? Attached is Alphy's copy of the stone vigil map. He managed to scribble all the places that were damaged. Nidhog squashed a bunch of it in his quest to kill me. Right brattice flattened, strong room worse for wear, unidentified tower crushed. Hope it helps._

_Yaelle gave me a bunch of leters you wrote and I started reading cos we thought they were for me but turns out they were very private so I am sorry. I stopped reading and will deliver them when I visit next._

_So after we got out from stone vigil it turned out the Enterprise was rusty and the balloon was full of holes. It was a miracle we made it to Gridania alive I think. we docked at the pier and this twin adder person was there saying theyd found his friends escaping from garleans. Now I don't know about any friends cos that's not something he talks about but he yelled “Bigs! Wedge!” and ran off. Found them all later. Turns out Wedge is a lala and Bigs is a roe and they are also engineers. Cid basicly turns them into workbirds once he's done crying._

_remember me not remembering anything when I met you? Well I found another mystery recently and Cid helped me solve part of it. I found a thing in the bottom of my backpack that he says is a mammet heart but its been completely wrecked by something hitting it. Mammet hearts are expensive so I don't know how I ended up with one._

_Anyways we're here in Gridania waiting for Cid and co to fix the Enterprise. Alphy's bored and wants to go to Coerthas to find ice crystals so maybe I'll see you soon. If not just assume I'm fighting a dragon or somesuch. By the way did you know Estinien showed up at the stone vigil. He yelled at me that this was all my fault before he left but I have no idea what he's talking about. are all dragoons this weird? I see knights with lances walking around camp a lot but are they also dragoons? how does it work? Do they ever fall off things?_

_sincerly_

_Ameme_

_PS sorry if I mispell anyones name, my ability to write leters is not a garantee of literacy_

~*~

 _This had better be worth all the back and forth_ , I thought sourly to myself. My butt hurt from all the riding on this rental chocobo, which by the way had a gait like a wagon with a broken wheel. The source of our woes rattled with every step in my saddlebag.

Long story short, Alphinaud had known a guy who knew another guy who knew a girl who knew a professor in Drybone who could create a container to safely house a strongly aspected crystal of large size and excellent purity. The professor was a bit on the odd side and tried to convince us to get him a crystal for research purposes as payment, which Alphinaud promptly volunteered me to do. I nearly got sent on a journey round the world because the professor's esteemed students were equally annoying, but I put my foot down and only got him a fire-aspected crystal from nearby. This was after he had sent us out to find some pots that he could coat with some sort of lacquer that resisted aether. Now we were on our way to Coerthas, specifically Snowcloak. I had a feeling the Ishgardians were going to be highly suspicious of our dirty old pot covered in grease.

The weather had warmed up for once in Coerthas, though only in the southernmost portions where I could see very dead grass in patches along the road. Some few plants were bravely putting out leaves as though there wouldn't be a blizzard next week to end their aspirations. Alphinaud admired the snow from the warmth of his coat. “I'd heard these were beautiful lands ere the Calamity,” he said, “but seeing it now, there is still beauty to be found amid the blizzards.”

I grunted, mind on the inevitable questioning we would get from the suspicious knights of Whitebrim Front. That and searching for flowers served as a nice distraction from whatever Alphinaud was babbling about this time.

“You do not agree?” Alphinaud asked, surprised. “I thought you _liked_ —or is it the people you prefer? Mayhap a certain individual...”

“Wot?” I said. “Oi, look. I see a flower!” I pointed to a little sprig of blue just up a nearby hill. “Plants up here certainly are hardy,” I remarked. Then his words registered properly. I gave him a rather scary grin and prompted my chocobo into a trot, which of course his promptly followed. Mine was not the only bird with a tooth-rattling gait. By the time we arrived at Camp Dragonhead, both of us winced with every step.

“Thank the Twelve!” Alphinaud groaned as we entered. “I can't stand another moment on this—Ameme, where are you going?”

“I thought we were in a hurry,” I said.

The look he gave me was so much like a miserable puppy disappointed by life that I relented and brought both birds to a stop by the stables. The sleek Ishgardian chocobos cast judgmental stares at our scruffy rentals as we dismounted.

“Hey, not everyone comes with a gold pedigree and the best trainers known to Eorzea,” I said to them.

“Kweh,” said the closest one disbelievingly. The only stablehand on duty wordlessly took the reins and set about feeding and watering the newcomers as Alphinaud and I limped away.

Camp Dragonhead seemed like usual. A new batch of adventurers, the ones who came and went without getting to know everyone, milled near the door to the strategy room as they awaited afternoon assignments. Inside was surprisingly comfortable, with the fires banked a bit more than usual and a dearth of knights seeking to warm up.

Haurchefant was at his usual spot, looking quite happy as he scribbled away at more reports. His happiness only intensified when he looked up and spotted me. “Ameme!” he cried. “What an unexpected delight! I just finished reading your missive some two bells past. Forgive me, had I known you were coming, I would have had a meal prepared and the fires stoked.” As he spoke, he stood and rummaged through a crate by his chair. I had the sneaking suspicion that he hadn't noticed Alphinaud behind me. Sure enough, he pulled out a strappy leather harness—the likes of which I usually saw in warm breezy Limsa Lominsa—and said, “I had occasion to lay hands on a most interesting piece of equipment the other day and wondered if you had any knowledge of it.”

 _Here we go_ , I thought as Alphinaud peeked around my shoulder. “Hello, Lord Haurchefant,” he said brightly. Haurchefant froze. “If I'm not mistaken, that is a type of harness worn by adventurers in warmer climes. Rather on the small side, however...”

Haurchefant folded the harness, though not before I noticed it was sized for a smallish Midlander. In fact, it probably would have fit me pretty well. “Fancy seeing you here, good Master Alphinaud!” he said. “Am I right in thinking the appearance of both of you means you are making for Snowcloak?”

Alphinaud nodded. “Indeed, though we stopped to see how you fared.”

“I thought we stopped to rest your arse,” I said.

Alphinaud grimaced. “That as well. We have been riding almost non-stop since we left Gridania some two days ago.”

“That would bruise even the most stalwart of tailbones,” Haurchefant said. “We do have some remedies if you have need of them. You may also borrow one of our birds for the ride to Snowcloak. They better know the terrain and can run on snow and ice very well.”

This was probably the best news either of us had heard all day. Alphinaud thanked Haurchefant profusely and limped off to the infirmary for the remedy for saddle sores. Haurchefant sent a knight off to the stables to see about a borrowed chocobo and turned to me. I handed his stack of personal letters to him.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said, tucking them in a big wad into his belt pouch. “I suppose that was my fault for not organizing my desk and leaving them in the open. So about this harness—have you worn aught like it?” He held the aforementioned harness up. It was definitely my size and came with certain features that were clearly for women.

I eyed the dangling straps, then him. He just looked innocent. “...do you... _want_ me to wear that?”

“Only in private,” he said, flashing me a grin.

 _Oh, Haurchefant_ , some part of me sighed somewhere in the back of my head.

“Jokes aside,” Haurchefant continued, “we've ordered some gear for adventurers to help keep ours supplied and I found several like these in our latest shipment. As I have never seen any adventurer sporting such revealing attire, I asked around and was informed it was for more intimate activities. This came as something of a surprise to me, considering the lack of suppleness...” He shook the harness a bit, demonstrating its overall stiffness. “In any case, I had reason to suspect the source of my information was taking the mickey, as it were, so I thought I would ask the expert in my life.”

I stared at the harness, confused. Was he asking me if I wanted to wear it for him? Or if I'd ever worn it for him before? Or...worn it for someone else? Was he...was he giving this to me? For sex?!

“If my query offends, forgive me,” he said, pulling back. “I was merely curious—”

“No, no,” I said, panicking a bit. “It's fine. I'm just not sure if you're asking if I've ever worn it or if, uh, I'd wear it for someone...or...um...what...”

Haurchefant turned red right across his nose and the tips of his ears. I was probably about as red too. My face felt like it was on fire. “Allow me to rephrase,” he said. “Is this truly an item adventurers wear in the course of their employment in warmer climes?”

My blush died down because I thought that seemed like a simple enough question and I wondered why he didn't ask it like that in the first place. “Some people go for it,” I said with a shrug. “Either you can't afford a full set of gear when you're starting out, or you have a client who just wants you to wear it while doing whatever it is you're doing. Usually hauling crates.” I thumbed my lower lip, trying to remember way back in the distant past, which shouldn't have been that long ago but somehow seemed an age. “I never liked the harnesses 'cos they pinch. Wasn't easy being piss-poor. Aye, the subligars weren't great either...”

Haurchefant's ears pricked. “Subligars?”

“Dyed some unimaginably bad colors,” I said, nodding. “Sky blue harnesses and pot helms, bright yellow subligars, the works. Walk of shame any time you went through town.”

“B-but...but what of protection?” Haurchefant asked, his eyes wide. “I can't imagine a subligar would offer much in the way of coverage.”

“Only protection it offered was teaching you how to dodge right quick,” I replied. “And gave lots of motivation for earning more money.” I hesitated. Haurchefant was now absently rubbing his thumb along the strap near the bra. I wished he wouldn't. My mind was starting to go places. At least he was wearing gloves. Although...

“With this, I can only conclude that my original information was incorrect,” Haurchefant said, sounding like a mix of relieved and disappointed. “I shouldn't wonder, given how half my knights seem convinced of the strange habits of adventurers when it comes to more personal—Well! That is to say I would not dream of asking you to wear such a thing if it—”

“I'd love to,” I said.

He blinked. “Beg pardon?”

Byregot smite me, I could not resist the opportunity to tease him. “Wear it for you,” I said. “If you ask.”

His brain visibly ground to a halt. It was clear to see on his face that, at least for the fleeting moment he processed my words, there was no one home and not even a dragon stepping on the building would garner more than a glance. His eyes flickered from the harness to me and he inhaled like he had forgotten to breathe.

“Ameme,” he began.

Alphinaud chose that moment to interrupt by galloping into the room to announce, “Ameme! We must away! The skywatcher says a blizzard is sweeping in from the north as we speak. If we don't leave now, we'll be buried in snow before we even have a chance to lay eyes on Snowcloak.” I withheld a sigh. Did he have to be so dramatic about it?

Haurchefant hastily put the offending garment on the floor behind the desk and cleared his throat. “In my experience, the skywatcher is often accurate to within the hour,” he said. “As disappointing as it is that your visit was so short, your business is obviously urgent so I shant keep you.” He proffered me a small bow, bending at the waist just enough that he could keep his voice low as he murmured, “I shall pray for your safety in this coming trial.”

Whatever he had been going to say would remain a mystery, it seemed. I thanked him quietly and trailed after Alphinaud as he stormed the stables with polite but urgent requests for our rentals back. Unfortunately the birds were too tired, so we had to double up on a very large chocobo that had some serious opinions about the weird pot we needed to take with us. We had to stick it between our torsos so the chocobo wouldn't try to take it out of the saddlebag.

“Sorry to interrupt—ow!—your reunion,” Alphinaud said. “I pray this remedy works soon. I think I—ouch!!—may have bruised my entire spine at this point.”

“At least this chocobo is nicer to ride,” I said. Alphinaud groaned in mild disagreement and muttered something about being relieved to return to Gridania.

The temperature dropped as we went. I couldn't tell if that was because we were going further north or if the predicted blizzard had descended. The expected trouble from the Whitebrim knights did not come to pass, to my relief. Instead, we got respectful nods and polite directions to Snowcloak. Once at Snowcloak, the pair of knights monitoring the area gave us very helpful advice on where to look for our desired crystal.

Call me crazy, but Snowcloak was kind of magnificent. According to the knights, it had once been a small valley that led to the western highlands. Now it was just ice. Ice on ice on ice, soaring overhead in a cliff of glittering white and blue. It reminded me of an ocean wave frozen just before crashing into the shore. The moment I saw it, I knew we would find an ice crystal of suitable purity. The glacier practically breathed aether. The knights warned us to never stay still for long or we would find our feet stuck to the ground. To touch the crystals, we had to don thick winter mittens, and even then my fingers went numb within minutes. When I stood a while in one spot at the base of Snowcloak, hoarfrost tried to creep over the surface of my boots. Breathing hurt. Talking only made things worse. Alphinaud and I quickly lapsed into silence, broken only by the occasional cough.

After half a bell spent chipping away at patches of clear ice trying to reach the crystals we could see below, Alphinaud found something. Not a crystal, no—he waved me over to show me what looked to be a tunnel in the ice wall. The tunnel could maybe fit one adult Elezen if they scooted through on their belly. Scratches along the bottom and around the entrance made me think people had been using it regularly. We chipped a small symbol pointing to the tunnel and carried on with our search.

Thankfully I managed to uncover a decent crystal under a pile of snow before a full bell had passed. We prised part of it off, tucked it into the pot, and beat a hasty retreat. Our final act before heading to Gridania was to show the knights the tunnel.

I could not wait to be warm again. How did they stand it? And now I wondered if I had been too forward with Haurchefant...

~*~

_Hi Haurchefant_

_I beat Garuda but lots of stupid things happened and a garlean showed up named Guy-us van Bellsar (bale-sar?) so that was not my best show. Didn't like him. His machine ate Garuda. This is a very bad thing but nothing I can do about it right now. Dont worry, I'm gonna be okay, not hurt or anything. Just annoyed, but that's normal. After I send this leter I'm going to sleep for a while._

_So what happened basicly is that we put the ice crystal on the hull and went perpendikular to the winds to get in. The winds were HUGE. Up close all you see is just a big wall of swirling clouds and you can't hear a damn thing. Once we got in we found a few ixali balloons and a big gated fence. Garuda was on the other side and boy she was mad. She tried to temper me but I ran in swinging my axe and stuff. She's got a couple sets of wings and big feathers. I guess most people looking at her would say she's very pretty (not to be crude but she has some prominent feminine atributes and I couldn't help but wonder why because the ixal do not have said atributes), but her feathers are actually killer feathers that detach and chase you around. so here I am running around trying not to run into the exploding feathers and also take out Garuda and finally when I did it she yelled that it wasnt over yet. Then she has some ixal servants bring out a kobold (was Ba Bu from the 89 th order or something) and an Amal'jaa and killed them to summon Ifrit and Titan. And boom! crashing through the winds is Guy-us on a giant machine that had the back half of a wolf, tail of a scorpion, and upper half of...something sorta Roegadyn-like. Think six limbs. Anyways when this thing showed up it ate Garuda and all her crystals, but I attacked it and managed to damage parts. Guy-us yelled at me and left. Life's tough. The hungry get eaten and the prey gets unsummoned cos no believers around and no crystals either. One good hit got rid of the two extra primals._

_After that I got back on the Enterprise and we made it to Gridania, so here I am. Cid's pretty mad about what the winds and the ice crystal did to his ship._

_I dont get why Estinien is the AZURE dragoon when his armor is all black. Tell him I think he's an arse. Would that get you in trouble? never mind, I'll tell him when I see him next._

_Ishgardian military sounds pretty complicated. Fortemps has its own set of dragoons I suppose? Too bad about the guy who broke his leg jumping around. defenetly not an easy occupation._

_About your private leters I did not read much past the first paragraph of the bottom leter (thought Id work my way from bottom to top) and actually I think its nice you and Lord Francel like planning urchin booting turnaments together._

_Thanks for the update on Goobbue and co. Asked Alphy if he remembered the dance she taught and he did. He called himself a passable dancer and wanted to teach me a sharleyen dance. You've seen me dance. Just imagine how that went._

_Don't know when I'll visit Coerthas again. We are still looking for the other sions that were kidnaped but no leads so far._

_Ameme_

_PS sorry if I upset you with my teasing. most adventurers do not like the harneses cos of the memories but I did mean it about wearing one if you asked._

~*~

 _Why does my face hurt?_ I wondered when I woke up. I prodded the tender parts of my cheek cautiously. Weird. It was almost as though I'd bashed my face into...

 _Oh._ Now I remembered. That crazy bitch Garuda had flung me face first into an Ixali fence during the fight. Fortunately she hadn't been too much trouble otherwise. The Garlean interloper who had showed up was another story.

 _Savage_ , he'd called me. Not because of the way I acted or anything, but because that's all Eorzeans were to him. We were no better than talking animals. That was rich coming from a guy too scared to show his face! He'd lost the high and mighty act when I put a dent in his peculiar six-limbed contraption, though. If he hadn't immediately retreated, I might've gotten it to spit Garuda out.

The little smirk I had from remembering his surprise and dismay faded. That contraption had _eaten_ Garuda. It almost managed to eat the weak versions of Titan and Ifrit, too, but I had interfered.

With no primal to fight and the Garlean running for it, we had gotten onto the Enterprise and limped back to Gridania, where Cid discovered the high winds had pretty much destroyed the rigging. Meanwhile, the ice crystal we'd used to penetrate the storm had frozen most of the hull, cracking the wood and turning it brittle. Docking caused part of the railing to come off in a big chunk. The engine died not long after. In short, the airship was a lost cause. The past day seemed like a net loss, in my opinion.

_Beep beep beep!_

“No,” I said to the linkshell. It merely blipped at me again. I sighed and picked it up.

“Ameme,” said Alphinaud. “Sorry to bother you at this hour, but I thought you should know that Y'shtola managed to get into contact with me just now.”

I yawned and rolled around the bed. Midgardsormr blew an irritated purple fireball at me when I disturbed his pillow. “Y'shtola,” I said sleepily. Vague memory...Miqo'te woman with a velvety voice...Scion... “Wait, Y'shtola?” I sat up, all sleepiness vanished. “She's all right?”

“Yes! And even better, she's with Yda, Urianger, and Thancred.”

I tried to put faces to names. Yda, Yda...possibly blonde, wore a turban, bouncy in more ways than one...Urianger was the cloaked Elezen man that I couldn't understand...and Thancred, the one who'd fought Titan with me. “That's good,” I said. “Maybe you can meet up and try to find where they took Minfilia and the others.”

“That is my hope. If you would like to join me...?”

I felt my nose. Funny, I don't think there were supposed to be moving bits in there. “I think I need to go to Stillglade Fane. The fence broke my face.” There was a stifled laugh from his end. “Don't you _dare_ tell them that!” I hissed.

“I don't mean to laugh, I just—snrk—find it funny that you've single-handedly defeated two primals, a dragon, and a specialized Garlean machine, but it's a fence that does the most injury!”

I sighed. So much for avoiding embarrassment. “Call me if you need anything killed,” I said.

“So long as it isn't fence-like in nature,” he quipped. Har har. “Oh, before I go, I would like to compensate you for your services to the realm.”

“Wot?”

“My family coffers are far from meager and 'tis only right that you receive some form of payment,” he said. “I believe the amount I have in mind should allow you to treat yourself very well in Ul'dah.”

I rolled onto my stomach and snuck in a quick head-pat on Midgardsormr, who snapped at my finger irritably. “That sounds nice,” I said. “Thanks. Should help me fix my gear, at least.”

“It is yours to do with as you wish,” he replied, which was just what I liked to hear when it came to gil. “I shall have someone deliver your payment anon. Until then!” He signed off.

Rather to my amusement, he ended up hiring a young adventurer to deliver the payment. I gave the Lalafellin lass a generous tip since she'd managed to find me in Stillglade Fane and told her to go get herself a decent meal. The amount left was enough for serious professional maintenance on all my gear, a week's worth of good meals, and four teleports or so.

After the swelling on my nose was gone and I had spent a good four bells at the shop getting my equipment seen to by someone with better tools than an old sharpening stone, I headed to Carline Canopy with designs on Miounne's minced meat pies. Anything vegetarian in Gridania was fairly cheap, but game meat went at a premium. As any given Gridanian liked to tell me in a holier-than-thou way, no part of an animal went to waste because to do otherwise would insult the elementals. To get meat, you first had to ask for the blessings of the elementals, and then only hunt enough for yourself or your family within designated areas, and only beasts which could handle the hit to their population. Once you got your kill, you had to tag it and field dress it, leaving the innards for predators of the woods, and then once you brought it to one of the processing houses in the city, you got to skin it and donate the hide to the leatherworkers' guild before even touching the meat itself. Then you either prepared it for your family or you gave it to Mother Miounne, who would sell it in meals for a generous amount and give you nearly 70% of the profit.

As an adventurer, I had really only done a little bit of hunting at the behest of Gridanians, and I certainly hadn't been given the privilege of eating my catch. The closest I had gotten was smelling it cooking in the back whenever I went into the Canopy. Gridanian food was remarkably bland, so I really hoped the meat was better.

Speaking of the Canopy, it was busier than ever when I arrived. New adventurers crawled all over the place, drinking out of tin mugs and mulling over salads as they discussed who knows what with their fellows. The only open seating was at a table with a young Hyuran woman who seemed so depressed that people were making an effort to leave her alone. I got my desired pie from the counter and sat across from her, not because I felt like bothering her but because I was tired and wanted to sit and didn't really give two shits about one depressed person at the moment. She ignored me right back.

The pie was pretty good. I munched away and let my mind wander to my various troubles. If Nidhogg was willing to kill Ascians who messed with his brood, was it possible to take advantage of that? I didn't think it was possible to provoke the Ascians. They were opposed to light, right? Maybe I needed to start a charity.

My thoughts went along that vein for some time before I noticed that the woman across from me looked quite familiar. She had a hat typical of a conjurer, with a tall conical top and a wide brim. The hat itself had seen better days, with a big burn along the top and evidence of past scuffles. Her robes were equally dirty. Every now and then she sniffled, but what little I could see of her face was pale rather than reddened with tears. Her brown hair flopped out from under her hat, lank and greasy.

I was fairly sure I knew her, though I couldn't recall from where. A lone conjurer...where had I met one before...?

Miounne appeared at the woman's side and touched her shoulder gently. “Edda, my dear, are you certain you won't eat?” she asked softly.

Familiar name. Familiar conjurer. Depression. Shouldn't she be with someone else?

Edda shook her head and spoke in a voice so quiet it could barely be classified as a whisper: “No, thank you, Mother.”

Miounne looked sorrowful. “At least drink,” she said, and set a glass of water in front of Edda. Edda didn't move. Miounne let loose a visible but silent sigh and left her alone.

“Where are the rest?” I asked.

For a long time, Edda did not respond. Then, slowly, she lifted her head to see who was sharing her table at last. She was not crying. Her face was just dead. No expression. But the lack of expression only served to enhance the sorrow I could see in her eyes. “Ameme,” she said in that barely-a-whisper. Her dead expression broke, her face contorted, and she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with each heaving, painful-sounding sob. In between heaves, she managed to say, “T-they left. They a-all l-left.”

I vaguely remembered the rest of her group: the semi-competent thaumaturge, the angry archer, and the idiot marauder. Wasn't she engaged to the marauder? “Even your...fiancé?”

Nod. Extra unhappy sob. I fetched a box of tissues from a concerned Miounne and passed tissue after tissue to Edda as she cried. A small mountain built up in front of her, with the stray tissue falling to the floor, before she managed to cry herself out. Once all cried out, her dead expression returned. I pushed the glass of water closer to her and watched as she automatically picked it up and downed the contents.

“Oi,” I said as her head dipped like she was about to go back into her depressed statue mode. “Your fiancé was an idiot and you deserve better.”

She rolled her head in my direction, revealing red-rimmed eyes. A little wrinkle developed between her eyebrows.

“He was inconsiderate, rude, and I'm surprised he hasn't gotten himself killed the way he runs into trouble,” I said. Behind me, Miounne hissed, “Ameme!!” like she wanted to tell me to cut it out. I ignored her.

Edda went back to staring at her lap. I peeked and saw she was fidgeting with a ring. “They left because I was holding them back,” she said, voice flat. “They said they'd find a real healer. One who could keep up.”

“That just proves my point,” I said. “Rude, inconsiderate, and on top of that they don't even know how to work as a team. But what happened with your fiancé?”

She hiccuped. “H-he left me for Liavinne,” she said. “T-they were...I thought...I thought he was faithful, b-but...”

“Then he was even worse than I thought!” I slapped the table, making her twitch. “Trash! Rubbish! Refuse! You're better off without him. Good riddance.”

She started crying again. I rested my elbows on the table and waited. And waited. And...okay, I didn't have time for this.

“Edda, I know you're heartbroken, but you gotta quit crying sometime and move on,” I said.

In a sudden, startling change of mood, she took her hat off and hurled it at the pile of tissues, scattering them. Her face was bright red. “Y-you're right!” she choked out. “I-I'm just crying over how much of my life I w-wasted on th-that...that...idiot!”

“Aye, and you're wasting even more of it crying about it now,” I observed.

So she sniffed and blew her nose and wiped her face and said, “You're right! I'm g-going to stop right now!” She straightened her back and for a second seemed like she had turned a corner. Then she burst into open, heartfelt tears, complete with snot running down her face.

Well, that didn't last long. Miounne came by with another box of tissues, gave me a look that said, 'This is your problem now', and returned to her desk. I resumed munching on my pie as Edda went from sad depression crying to angry jilted fiancée crying. She cursed the Twelve, Avere, Liavinne, herself, Avere, life, her own stupidity, and Avere, quite loudly without regard to the other adventurers now sneaking glances in her direction. I glared at anyone looking too long at our table and let her vent.

All that anger made her thirsty and hungry, it seemed. She picked up the glass and glowered at it for its audacity to be empty. Miounne appeared like magic with more water and a small bowl of soup. Edda consumed everything in a rage and carried on venting until she ran out of things to complain about. Finally, she managed to clarify what had happened. “Paiyo gave up adventuring before Avere ran off with Liavinne,” she explained. “He was always telling Avere to slow down for me, but Liavinne was always running ahead. She never liked me anyway.”

“Classic dysfunctional adventuring group,” I said wisely, nodding. “You have to trust each other if you want to survive.”

Edda's nostrils flared. “Ri-right! I...I never...” Her shoulders slumped. “I never said anything...since no one liked me, I only spoke to Avere and...”

“Not your fault,” I said. “Now you know the signs of a bad group, right?”

“I hope so,” she said.

So did I. “Why don't you go clean yourself up,” I suggested. “You can eat, too. We'll go on an adventure after that.”

Edda glanced down at herself and sniffed as though just realizing she stank something fierce. “By the Twelve!” she said. “You're right. I think I...wait, an adventure?” She shot me an anxious look.

“Yep,” I said. “I'll ask Mother Miounne if she's got any work for us.”

“Oh, I—I don't want to be a burden,” said Edda.

I snorted. “If it makes you feel better, I've gotten in trouble for doing too much on my own and ignoring others,” I said. “This'll be good practice for me.”

Edda's mouth opened in surprise. “You? In trouble?” she said, as though the idea of me getting into trouble with anyone was beyond comprehension. “B-but...you're _Ameme!_ ”

“Ameme needs help sometimes, too,” I said dryly, my mind jumping unbidden to Haurchefant's arms around me. “No one's invincible, you know.”

She chewed her lower lip before nodding. “O-okay. I'll go take a bath and...and eat, and then we can go,” she said, and stood with a small wince. Her depression left her hobbling like an old woman before her time. She made for a rather pitiful sight as she limped away. I polished off my pie thoughtfully and picked tissues off the floor.

Miounne reappeared once again with a rubbish bin and helped me scoop the mass into it. “Thank you,” she said. “The poor lass has been here for nigh a week. Did she tell you her ex-fiancé and his lover left her to die? One of my other adventurers found her in the woods. She only started speaking to others the day before yesterday. I feared she planned to starve herself to death.”

I frowned. “Did they? She said they left but not how.”

“Indeed. I'm not certain how it happened, but I've a report saying the pair were seen recently in decent shape and quite happy, evidently on their way to Ul'dah.” Miounne set the bin down and sat next to me. “So. How have you been? I've heard a good deal through the grapevine but 'tis always my preference to hear from the mouth of the adventurer herself.”

I half-considered blowing her off with a short explanation, but it occurred to me that maybe she had some wisdom about men she could dispense. “Don't suppose you know how to tell if you're coming on too strong to a man,” I said.

Miounne's eyebrows shot almost to her hairline. “Is there someone you have your eye on?” she asked, leaning closer.

Maybe I hadn't thought this through. “Never mind,” I said. “I'll figure it out. Or make a mess.”

“Well, if you need advice, you may always phrase it in general terms to protect his identity,” she said. “Rest assured I would not tell a soul.”

Hnngh...ugh...fine. “What if you say something flirty and he just...freezes. But he's making jokes before that about similar things and...” I gestured helplessly.

“Ahh,” she said. “Do you know if he has any experience with women?”

“Good question,” I said. “I have no idea. He's never been particularly shy but he tends to freeze when something unexpected happens in a conversation, for example if I make it obvious I like him. And if someone insults him, he just ignores it like nothing was even said, but he'll defend everyone else to the bitter end.”

“It sounds,” she said after some thought, “that your friend is personable on the surface, yet as the bottom of a still lake is hidden from our eyes by the reflection of the sun, his heart is deeper than first impressions would suggest.”

More to Haurchefant than meets the eye. Okay. That totally didn't answer my question.

“Unfortunately I cannot say whether or not you've trespassed,” she added. “You must use your best judgment.”

I sighed. It really was useless asking about this stuff.

“Ameme.”

“Hm?”

Miounne clasped her hands in front of her and regarded me seriously. “You are a sincere, genuine soul,” she said. “You touch others in a way few can. Trust in your judgment, my dear.”

I glanced away. “I'm not good with people, really,” I said. “I just listen and nod most of the time.”

“Does he listen to you when you speak?”

“Aye. I listen to him, too. He's always calling me 'dear friend' and 'dear Ameme' and seems to think hugs are improper but does them when he's relieved to see me alive and—argh! I don't know. I say things and he stares and I'm just a mess.” I plopped my head onto the table. “A big, stinky mess with too much to worry about, that's what I am.”

Miounne smothered a laugh. “Ameme, have you perhaps considered that he was raised with very different manners?” she asked. “For example, in Gridania 'tis rare to meet an Elezen willing to speak his or her mind in public when it comes to matters of the heart. Ishgardians are even more reticent, if that can be believed. That is not to say they won't accept affection from others, but you may receive a more satisfactory response if you did so in private.”

I lifted my head to say that I'd tried but then I remembered that Haurchefant's desk was not considered private, and he'd hugged me in front of Alphinaud and Cid, and as a matter of fact I'd only ever spoken to him privately in letters and that one time he'd told me he didn't like tails—

Wait. Wasn't he always asking me to dinner? As in...alone? Together?

“I'm _such_ an idiot,” I said. “I just realized he's been trying to do that but we're always interrupted!”

Miounne's laughter made me feel both relieved and a bit silly. She said, “If it is adventure you seek, I do have a task for an able-bodied adventurer and her friend. There have been reports of suspicious activity at a nearby burial site by a cult called the Lambs of Dalamud...”

She gave me the lowdown, even drawing Edda into discussion once Edda returned smelling like a whole cart full of flowers thanks to Rooster Stead's signature shampoo. It sounded like a den of inequity and demon possession and probable zombies, frankly. Anyone who worshipped the cursed lesser moon had zero grasp on reality and needed to be put down.

I was pretty optimistic about our chances of getting out alive, but Edda had numerous misgivings. “I don't want to hold you back,” she kept saying during our lovely evening stroll to the Deepcroft.

“It'll be fine,” I said several times. “Just aim for the head if we find any undead.”

When we arrived, she finally took notice of what I was saying. “You know, Ameme, I don't think we'll find any undead,” she said. “The burial mounds are regularly purified by the conjurers. At least that's what I heard...”

I scowled. “If that's the case, why are the Lambs of Dalamud running around?”

“They're just people,” she said. “Mayhap if they were voidsent somehow...”

We drifted into a stone-lined pathway leading under a large hill, the very first of the Tam-Tara Deepcroft burial mounds. “And the elementals? Do they not have an opinion?” At her blank look, I added, “Not that I know anything about elementals or conjury. I just hit things.”

Edda smiled wanly. “I don't know much either. I—I have to use potions to—”

I stopped and threw my hand out, interrupting her. The door to the burial mound sat ajar and distant cracking noises emanated from within. A deep voice, raging and frightened all at once, gave an echoing shout. “Well, that was easy,” I remarked. “Ready?”

“Oh! Just a—just...” She pulled out her pack and rummaged through it frantically before coming up with two potions. She held one bottle in each hand and stared into the mound with a determined expression. “Ready!!”

“Oh, good, emergency potions,” I said. Edda's brow furrowed. “Try to heal if you can and save those for emergencies,” I said with an internal sigh. Healers...such a waste of time...

Since Edda wasn't exactly the fittest person in the Shroud, we hurried at top walking speed into the mound. The noises came from another door that led to a cellar of some sort, or so I thought at first. When we descended using the stone stairs, we found a tunnel connecting the mound to a complex system of caves reinforced with wooden scaffolding. Every single depression was full of skeletons, as befitting a burial mound. The noises grew in volume until we reached the source.

It took me several seconds to understand what was going on. The cracking resolved into wooden weapons and metal knives hitting stone, joined by scuffles and grunts as what seemed to me to be a whirling mass of dark brown robes consumed the center of the chamber. The only lights came from torches and an eerie glowing purple orb on a table next to the robes. The owner of the deep voice revealed himself when he surged out of the center of the robes with another wild shout, sending his assaulters left and right with pure momentum. His skin was the color of the stone around him, but his pale hair caught the light of the orb, setting him apart from the rest.

“Robes are bad,” I told Edda, and jumped into the fray just as the poor Duskwight got dragged back under all the robes with a yelp. Given that I only had to avoid hitting one very large, very visible person, it was just like catching catfish with a large net in a barrel. I just hacked away at the robed backs until they took notice of me and scattered, leaving my immediate area clear. Edda dove behind me for safety.

“By the Twelve!” she cried. “Ameme, they were going to sacrifice him!”

“They're all dead either way, but now I feel justified,” I said cheerily. One of my earlier victims moved with a groan. I put a stop to that immediately.

“Bugger,” said the Duskwight. “Bloody—shite-eating cu—”

“Damn!” said one of the Lambs. “Who're you? Never mind, get her!” He started to summon a fireball, but I got him in the face with Tomahawk before he could finish. His half-formed fireball exploded, taking out the cultists on either side of him.

The rest clearly had some sense of self-preservation and fled, much to my annoyance. I only managed to bring down two more before they disappeared into the adjoining tunnels. I knew better than to chase anyone through caves when I didn't know the layout, so I gave up and turned to Edda.

She was deeply concerned about the Duskwight man, who had not done much more beyond sit up. He kept finding new swear words to mutter as he cupped a hand over his ribs. It didn't help that he outright growled at her for putting a hand on his shoulder.

I didn't know a lot about Duskwights other than they originally came from underground cities and everyone in Gridania hated them because they had to resort to crime to survive aboveground. This fellow was wearing some old padded armor and clearly had enough fighting experience to survive this long, but he'd taken a knife to the chest and didn't seem keen on doing anything besides swearing. Like all Elezen, he was also insanely tall and likely weighed as much as Edda and me combined. Hauling him out would not be easy if he couldn't walk.

Edda decided to take matters into her own hands. She uncorked her potion and dumped the contents all over him.

“What'n the seven fucking hells!” he yelled, sputtering. His tongue darted out to lick instinctively at the liquid running down his face, but then he spat it out and turned angrily on Edda. “Who asked to have opo-opo piss poured on them?! You little gobshite—”

“It's a POTION and YOU'RE WELCOME,” said Edda loudly. “Ameme, where are you going?”

I paused by the entrance to another tunnel. “Genocide of cultists,” I said. “You know. Killing spree.”

“Stay here in case they come back,” she said, suddenly more assertive than I'd ever heard her. “This man was almost sacrificed.”

“I was _not_ ,” growled the Duskwight. “I came down here to get rid of the sacrilegious whoresons defiling the Deepcroft. I didn't ask for your help!”

“Even if you didn't ask, you needed it,” Edda replied.

“Yeah, and why would you come in here without a weapon?” I asked.

“I didn't need it! And I _had_ a weapon, if you really want to know, but they only just disarmed me before you came in. Away with you, wenches. I've no need of your artificial sympathy!”

Edda sucked in a deep breath like she meant to shout at him. Then she let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said, going meek. “All right. I'm sorry. It's... it's _not_ artificial but I can see you want to be left alone, so...”

“Edda!” I said. She jumped. “Why are you apologizing? We saved his godsdamned life and it's not our fault he's too stupid to realize. Plus he'll bleed out at this rate.”

The Duskwight turned his stink-eye on me instead. I returned it with some bonus rude hand gestures. “You think me a stupid coward?” he demanded, voice low.

“A brave idiot, maybe,” I said. “Courage doesn't get you anywhere if you're too stupid to get yourself out alive. You shouldn't have come here on your own if you couldn't handle it.”

“I'm no coward!” he snapped.

“I didn't say that,” I pointed out. “LISTEN to what I'm saying. I thought Elezen had good hearing.”

“I'm no coward,” he repeated, but with less bite. He allowed Edda to shift his hand away from his ribs and pull up one side of his shirt.

“It's awfully deep,” Edda said. “I think I can...” Her fingers hovered above the bleeding gash. A dim green light slowly grew around her hand. She shut her eyes to concentrate. The Duskwight bent his long neck to peer intently into her face as she worked.

“Mess with her and I end you,” I said, coming to stand over him ominously.

He snorted but continued studying Edda, ignoring the fact that I had my feet in between his legs. “Adventurers,” he said the way most people might say 'edible goo'. “Ignorant ones at that. Don't you know to stay away from _filthy Duskwights_ like me? You never know when I might steal your purse or force myself on you through sheer animal lust.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. Only _cowards_ rape others.”

He trained his intent gaze on me. “And thieves?”

I shrugged. “People have their reasons.”

The Duskwight wordlessly returned to watching Edda. It took her a good ten minutes of heavy concentration to get the wound to stop bleeding and stick shut. Thankfully he got to his feet once she was done.

“How is it? Does it hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Please don't move too much or it'll open again. I—”

He raked his potion-soaked hair out of his face and glared. “Stop fussing, woman!” he said. He started to say something else, like he intended to prove to us that he wasn't a wimp, but something about what he said triggered Edda's deeply, deeply buried temper. She stomped her foot and actually slapped his chest, though not where he'd been stabbed.

“I'll fuss when I want!” she retorted. “You're the idiot who—who ran in here to take on a whole cult and almost got yourself sacrificed! I—I just kept you from bleeding to death! I bet you run in front of the group and get hurt all the time! In fact, I—”

“I'm not an idiot adventurer!” he replied, offended.

“You be quiet!” Edda cried, her voice rising to an almost-shriek. The Duskwight's ears went flat against the sides of his skull. “I'm the one talking right now! I'm tired of everyone saying what they think and never listening to me! So, so when I tell you, don't move too much or you'll open it, _you'll_ _bloody well do what I say!!_ ” She jabbed a finger back the way we came. “There's the exit,” she said, going back to an eerie calm. “I want you to leave and get treatment.”

The Duskwight gave her a suspicious look. She chose to grit her teeth visibly and smile, which might've been pleasant if she didn't seem about two seconds away from strangling him herself. He glanced over her head at me. I just nodded.

“Fine,” he said, moving slowly around us. I watched him hobble out of the Deepcroft with mild concern. If he made it to Gridania, there was no telling if anyone would bother treating him. Still, he could probably heal on his own at this point.

Edda had not moved a muscle. Her head was down. When I put a hand on her shoulder, I could feel her shaking. She turned to me, eyes wide. “Ameme,” she said, “I think I'm going to _kill_ Avere.”

I _knew_ she was serious, horribly and truly serious, but all I did was laugh because I found it immensely funny, that idea.

“Let's head back,” I said, rather than blithely offer to help. “You should probably talk to someone about homicidal urges. I'm told they're bad.”

She was obviously not as far gone as I was, because her own thoughts shocked her to the point where she spent the whole time we toiled to the entrance talking about how she had never in a million years wished ill on anyone and this was terrible and what was happening to her to make her like this. By the time I dropped her off at Stillglade Fane with the guild master E-Sumi-Yan, who claimed to have several decades of experience counseling homicidal women jilted by their fiancés, she had decided this was a mere aberration brought on by her state of mind.

I wondered how you could tell if you were temporarily insane or fully, permanently insane. Maybe when the insanity started to feel normal was the point of no return. Or was it a lack of willingness to be fixed? What if you had to do your own fixing?

Maybe Haurchefant would know...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grief is like trying to climb an escalator going the wrong way.


End file.
